


continues with wings

by paracyane



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, Drinking, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Previous Injuries, figure skater shion & choreographer adriah, food/diet mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paracyane/pseuds/paracyane
Summary: There are three constants in Inunaki Shion’s life: 1) Edea skating boots 2) MK Gold Star blades 3) Meian Shuugo’s color coded calendar. This is how he gains a fourth.Adriah is not a mind reader. He is not some omniscient, psychic being who has been sent to ruin Shion’s life. He is a normal human male with no magical powers, who has been sent to ruin Shion’s life.
Relationships: Inunaki Shion & Hinata Shouyou, Inunaki Shion & Meian Shuugo, Inunaki Shion/Adriah Thomas
Comments: 36
Kudos: 133





	continues with wings

**Author's Note:**

> hello tiny tomashio corner of ao3! i hope these two make you as happy as they make me! 
> 
> title from hanyu's show of the same name... iykyk 
> 
> references/inspo & music list [here](https://paracyane.dreamwidth.org/5391.html)
> 
> these beautiful arts ([one](https://twitter.com/mi_ncf1/status/1281287846884716546), [two](https://twitter.com/mi_ncf1/status/1281308299946795008)) are amazing!!! my heart is so full ;_;

* * *

#

Meian Shuugo is a person who prides himself on his ability to inconvenience Shion the most, while getting away scot-free. So naturally, he waits until Shion has been dragged to hell and back by Oliver before telling him, “Hibarida-san officially won’t be able to choreograph for you this upcoming season.”

It does not have the intended effect. “I mean, I figured,” Shion says, from where he is face-down on the ground. He turns his neck slightly so Meian will be able to hear him. “I’d do the same, if I was getting married in a month.”

“I thought he already officially cancelled on all of us?” Hinata asks. He’s on his back next to Shion, staring up at the ceiling that has a brightly colored _Broadmoor Skating Club_ banner draped across it. “He told me months ago that he wouldn’t be able to.”

“Maybe I’m more special to him than you are,” Shion says, but there’s no bite. He’s too tired from all the running drills that Oliver makes them do the second it’s the off-season. Colorado Springs doesn’t feel like home until Oliver makes them condition from morning to night, or as long as Meian and Sugawara give him permission to.

“You don’t mean that, do you, Wan-san?” Hinata sticks out his lower lip comically, and Shion glares at him. “Do you hate me?”

“I do now.” Shion sits up, rolling his neck to the side. “Ugh.”

“You’ve been talking to a bunch of different choreographers, right?” Hinata asks, as Meian scrolls through his phone. “I thought I heard you guys talking about that.”

“Yeah, we both have,” Meian answers. “Shion didn’t like any of them.”

“That’s not true,” Shion corrects. “I liked none of them.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Who are you going to for next season, Shouyou?” Shion asks, ignoring Meian’s last comment.

“Samson is doing my short program, and I’m staying in Japan after Hibarida-san’s wedding to work with Ukai Keishin for my free skate.” Hinata adjusts the headband he uses to keep his bangs out of his eyes during workouts. “I haven’t worked with Ukai-san since I was in juniors, but I think it’ll be good for me to work with choreographers who aren’t Hibarida-san. I’ve gotten kind of dependent on him.”

“If you’re dependent, I must already have drowned,” Shion remarks dryly. Hibarida has choreographed every single one of Shion’s programs since even before his senior debut.

“This is why I warned you not to use one choreographer for your entire career,” Meian lectures. “Do you not remember me telling you at the earliest in 2015, and every year after that, that you shouldn’t ask him to choreograph all of your programs?”

“With that mentality, I guess it’s time for a new manager too,” Shion says, not missing a beat.

“Haha.” Meian isn’t laughing at all. “As if your life wouldn’t immediately fall apart if I wasn’t here to organize your terrible busy schedule.”

“My terrible busy schedule is what allows for me to give you a paycheck.” Shion twists the top half of his body, feeling one of the bones in his back crack as he does so. “Besides, now that my year off is over, there will be many less photoshoots, and lots more time on airplanes.”

“I’m so glad you’re coming back to competition,” Hinata says happily. “I missed you so much at Worlds because we didn’t get to room together.”

“You do know that we don’t have to room together at Worlds, right?” Shion asks. “That’s just for when we’re staying in the Olympic village. It’s not like you don’t make enough to pay for your own room at Worlds.”

“But it’s so much fun to room with Wan-san!”

Hinata is actually a surprisingly considerate roommate, so he doesn’t really mind. “I hope you enjoyed winning Nationals while I was away.”

“I did, actually,” Hinata says. “And I intend on defending my title this winter.”

“Well,” Shion says. “We’ll see about that.”

Hinata has never ranked higher than Shion at Nationals, and in all the senior level Nationals that Shion has ever competed in, he hasn’t failed at winning the title. He hates to admit it, but there’s a decent chance that Hinata will be able to make good on his promise. This is the first time Shion has sat out on an entire competitive season, so he has no idea what his condition will be like come this fall.

“Who are you going to for choreography then?” Hinata is asking. “Or are you finally going to choreograph yourself?”

“I only do that for exhibitions, and as necessary for competition programs,” Shion reminds him. “And the only choreographer I thought might be a good fit with me is Adriah Tomas, so I’m flying out to Boston next week to work with him.”

Hinata sits up. “I’ve worked with Adriah before! You should’ve told me, I haven’t talked to him in forever.”

“When did you work with him?” Shion hadn’t known that.

“A few years ago, for the 2016-17 season,” Hinata says. “He did my short program. Do you remember that one? I skated to Scheherazade.”

2016 means that Hitoka was still here in Colorado Springs with them. The thought lingers, but Shion pushes it out of his head before he can pursue it any further. “How could I forget that costume? It was the reddest color I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he laughs. “It clashed with your hair so bad. I can’t believe Atsumu let that happen.”

“It was on purpose,” Hinata argues. “And Asahi-san also thought it was a good choice, it reflected the tone and mood of the program really well.”

“Well, I’m not saying I disagree with that,” Shion says. “But… your hair.”

“I distinctly remember you wearing a costume that was 75% gold sequins,” Hinata says, feigning thoughtfulness. “It would be such a shame if I posted that on Instagram today.”

“You play dirty, Hinata Shouyou,” Shion says, picking up and pointing a dumbbell at him. “I can guarantee that you will live to regret it.”

“But you’ll let me live?” Hinata asks. Meian sighs behind them, like he’s the one who’s suffering.

“When is Sugawara coming back from Japan?” Meian asks. “I’m tired of babysitting.”

“You’re under no legal obligation to manage Shouyou,” Shion points out. It’s true, even if Shion and Hinata are under the same agency, and Sugawara also helps out with Shion from time to time. “You’re literally self-inflicting this stress upon yourself.”

“Meian-san is so nice,” Hinata says, fanning himself with a hand. “Suga-san is staying in Japan until after Hibarida-san’s wedding, didn’t I tell you that?”

“No,” Meian says, painfully.

“Relax,” Shion tells him. “You’re going back to Japan next week anyway. Isn’t that why you’re coming with me to the airport? Because your flight leaves an hour after mine?”

“I’m coming with you to the airport because I am your manager, and I signed a contract,” Meian says. “If you die because of my neglect, I’ll get sued. Your dad’s a lawyer, as you remind me every so often.”

“I’m always happy to hear about how meaningful my life is to you,” Shion says. “It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.”

“I hope you don’t perish in Boston when you’re not under my jurisdiction,” Meian says. “That would be such a tragedy, don’t you think?”

“Are you staying with Adriah?” Hinata pipes up. “When you’re in Boston, I mean.”

“I’m not,” Shion says. “He offered, but I figured two weeks is kind of a long time to impose. Also, I don’t want to sleep on a couch for that long. He helped us find a hotel that’s near the SC.”

“Is it Studio Allston? That’s where I stayed when I went.”

“No, it’s a Marriott,” Shion says. “Maps told me it’s about a 20 minute walk away so I was planning on jogging.”

“Oliver would be so proud of you if he were here right now,” Meian says. “I can call him?”

“Please no,” Shion says, somewhat weakly. “If he were here he would have us do more sprints, and I can’t run anymore, not today.”

“Isn’t he watering your plants?” Meian asks. “You’re going to want him in the best mood possible if you don’t want to come back to a dead jungle.”

Oliver had promised something like fifty times that he wouldn’t forget. Shion is still going to text him weekly about it. “Maybe I should’ve asked Samson instead. There’s too much to keep track of when I’m trying to find a new choreographer. It’s been so busy.”

“Adriah is so nice,” Hinata assures him. “He takes you out to dinner and gets to know you before he wants to know the specifics about what music you want and any other details. He’s super fast at it, too.”

“We talked on the phone about a few pieces that I was interested in but he hasn’t asked me that many questions yet,” Shion says. “I’ll be going back to Boston after Hibarida-san’s wedding to finish up with him.”

“Maybe I should ask him to do more programs for me,” Hinata says. “He’s so fun to work with. You know that he used to be a pairs skater, right?”

Shion did not know. He should have done more research. “Would we have seen him at any competitions when he was still an athlete?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” Hinata says. “You might have, but I definitely didn’t. All he told me was that he injured his back a few years ago, so he decided to quit competing and start choreographing professionally. I think he’s a year older than you, Wan-san.”

“He is,” Shion confirms. “I knew that at least.”

Hinata laughs, taking off his headband. “I can’t believe I’m not going to see you both for so long! Will you miss me?”

“No,” Meian says.

“He means that he will miss you very much, but he is incapable of showing human emotions when other people are looking,” Shion translates. “Don’t worry, I’m an expert at reading him.”

“Do you even know how to use the Calendar app on your phone?” Meian asks. “Because it would be very easy for me to mess up every aspect of your life in just a few seconds.”

“Meian Shuugo would never do anything to jeopardize his reputation!” Shion sing-songs. Hinata almost manages to tie Meian’s shoelaces together, before he shoos them into the locker rooms to change so they can finally leave.

#

They take a cab to Denver to fly out of there instead of Colorado Springs, because Shion can’t get a non-stop flight otherwise. Meian is obviously a little annoyed about it, but he still seems like he’s in a relatively good mood about going home for the first time in a few months. Shion bids him goodbye at the gate, preparing to sleep for the duration of the flight.

The press calls him _Japan’s Wonder Boy_ , but Shion doesn’t feel so wonderful when he wakes up during the plane’s descent into Logan Airport, his hair in a disarray because he slept on it weird. He quickly runs his hands through it, willing it to flatten down before they’re allowed to disembark.

Adriah had said he’d pick Shion up at the airport, a gesture that Shion can’t tell if it’s friendly or overbearing. It becomes even further of a mystery when Adriah holds up a sign reading _Shion Inunaki_ in bubble letters, decorated with multiple glittery hearts and stars.

“Did you make that yourself?” Shion asks, amused.

“Are you surprised?” Adriah asks eagerly. When Shion nods, Adriah grins. “I did make it myself.”

“Well,” Shion says, looking at the homemade sign. He’s definitely surprised. “Do you just have that much glitter lying around?”

“Arts and crafts are my other passion,” Adriah says. It’s very unclear to Shion whether he’s kidding or not. He offers to take Shion’s luggage, but Shion had only brought a carry-on. He’d sent things he would need in Japan back with Meian in one of his checked bags. “Come on, I’ll show you where I parked.”

So he’s probably being friendly, Shion guesses, as Adriah keeps talking about nothing in particular.

“Have you tried clam chowder?” Adriah asks, after they drive out of the airport parking lot.

“I haven’t, why?”

“Boston has really great clam chowder! We’ll definitely have to get some while you’re here.” Adriah looks over at him and smiles. “Have you been to Boston before?”

“Once, three years ago,” Shion says. “World Championships were held at TD Garden. I didn’t get a chance to explore the city or go sightseeing, though. I think I flew out the same night as the gala.”

“I went to that, actually,” Adriah says. “I remember you skating, now that I think about it. You won that year, didn’t you?”

“I did.” That feels like so long ago, now that he’s actively trying to recall the details. “I heard from a training mate that you’ve choreographed for him before. Do you remember Shouyou?”

“I do remember Shouyou! He came with his translator.”

Hitoka. It’s Shion’s fault for bringing it up, really. He should have known that’s where the conversation was going to go.

When Shion doesn’t say anything else, Adriah doesn’t press it. He hums along to faint sounds of the radio, only breaking the silence to ask if Shion had any preferences on what station. Shion doesn’t know any of the radio stations in this area, so Adriah switches it to something he likes, and they listen to that.

“Where are we going?” Shion asks, after they’ve been driving for a while. He probably should have asked much earlier, like a normal person.

“Do you like Korean barbecue?” Adriah asks. “The plaza I want to go to has both that and also hotpot, but it’s a little too warm for hotpot.”

“And it’s not too warm for Korean barbecue?” Shion asks.

Adriah laughs. “Is it ever too warm for Korean barbecue?”

It’s a good point. They go to Korean barbecue, Adriah knowing exactly what he wants to order the second they’re seated.

“I’m not that picky, so go ahead and order whatever,” Shion says. “But definitely extra pork belly.”

“You read my mind,” Adriah says. “And other than this I promise to let you stick to what I’m sure is a very strict diet.”

He’s right, Shion can’t go overboard if he’s going to get himself back into competition shape after a year away. Still, the galbi that Adriah is grilling smells so good that he lets himself forget about that in exchange for what’s looking to be a good few hours ahead.

“Can I ask you something?” Adriah props chin up with an elbow on the table. They’ve just finished their first round, and are waiting for the second.

“Sure.”

“Why did you stop talking when I brought up Shouyou’s translator?”

Oh, that. Figures. Adriah had noticed. “Hitoka is actually my ex-girlfriend,” Shion says. “We broke up last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” Shion says. “But it’s okay. She graduated from a university in Colorado and had a job offer back in Japan, so she recommended a different translator to Shouyou before she left Colorado Springs. Shouyou decided he was okay without a translator in the end though.”

“Is that why you took off the 2018-19 season?” Adriah asks.

Shion laughs without meaning to. “No, I was planning on doing that anyway. We broke up after I made the announcement.”

Adriah chews on a piece of kimchi, swallowing before he says, “Can I ask why?”

He’s very nosy for someone Shion has just met, so Shion doesn’t know why he’s still talking. But he is. “She broke up with me.” He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek before he adds, “She broke up with me because she said I would never love her like I love my career. I’d never put her first.”

“Is that true?”

Shion doesn’t answer immediately. He’s saved from doing so with the arrival of their next round. Adriah had grilled earlier, so Shion picks up the tongs this time. He’s laying out the bulgogi when Adriah says, “Not that it has to matter, but I don’t necessarily think that that’s a bad thing.”

Shion adds the mushrooms before he asks, “What do you mean?”

Adriah shrugs. “No matter how you look at it, it means that you love what you do and you work really hard at it. I think that’s really admirable.”

“I—” Shion blinks at him, surprised. Adriah smiles back, and Shion has to work up enough saliva before he’s able to swallow. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else he can say here, so he settles for adding more meat to the grill. When they’re done, Adriah insists on paying, and Shion knows that to protest means to fight a battle that he’s already lost.

Adriah drives him back to his hotel, putting the car in park outside the main doors. “I can come pick you up tomorrow morning,” he says, as Shion unbuckles his seatbelt.

“I was actually thinking of taking a jog,” Shion says. “It’s not that far away, right?”

“Wow, that’s so much dedication Shion! I’m super impressed with you right now.”

“Were you not impressed by my Korean barbecue-eating abilities?” Shion asks, only half joking.

Adriah laughs. “That was also impressive, I will admit.” He pops open the trunk so Shion can get his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow! We have the rink from 9 to 10:30 and again from 2:30 to 4.”

Shion waves as he drives away. When he’s out of sight, he pulls the handle of his suitcase up and walks inside to check in.

#

Adriah arrives earlier than him, even though Shion sees on his watch that he’s almost half an hour early himself. He’d woken up before his alarm despite the time difference, so he’d gone down to the hotel gym before picking up a piece of toast on his way out.

“You must be a morning person,” Adriah says, when Shion joins him. “Only a morning person could nearly beat me here.”

Shion is a morning person because of his schedule back when he skated at SC Karuizawa, but mostly because Samson has trained him to become one since he became Shion’s coach. He tells Adriah the latter, which makes him laugh. They warm up together on the side of the rink, as the group on the ice finishes up. Shion ties the laces of his right skate twice, before moving on to his left.

“Do you always do that?” Adriah asks. Shion looks up to see that Adriah is waiting for him, his skates already on.

“Tie my right skate twice? Yeah, I do.” Shion finishes knotting the laces on the left before he gets up. “I accidentally did it before I won Junior Worlds in 2007, and I’ve done it every day since then.”

“Not just at competitions?”

“I like to think that every day is as important as a competition,” Shion says. “Like, why should I take practice less seriously than a competition? I think success requires daily maintenance of especially the little things.”

“Hmm.” The group before them is leaving now. “I’ve known you for two days and I already admire you very much.”

Shion flushes, gripping the boards. The zamboni is running now, leaving swaths of clean, unmarked ice in its wake. “Well, I’m very flattered to hear that.”

When they get in the rink, Adriah says, “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to do whatever you do to warm up. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Hinata had told him about this already, so Shion doesn’t ask any questions before he begins his laps. As he’s going through his routine, he distinctly feels Adriah watching him. The heat of his gaze threatens to burn a hole in Shion’s back. He tries to shake it off, as he starts incorporating more elements.

They do that for thirty minutes, Shion stopping then for some water.

“Did you learn a lot?” he quips, when Adriah crosses the rink to join him.

“I did, actually,” Adriah says, taking a sip of his own water. “You probably don’t think about it because it’s something you do every day, but I think a skater’s habits and rituals say a lot about who they are as a person and as an athlete. You said it yourself, daily maintenance.”

“Okay, damn. You don’t have to psychoanalyze me like that.”

Adriah chokes on his mouthful of water. Shion is worried for a second before he realizes he’s laughing. “You’re a lot funnier in person than you are in your interviews,” he says. “I swear I’ve watched so many, you always give textbook answers and it’s very boring for the viewer.”

“Next you’re going to tell me that you have my Wikipedia page memorized.”

“Sadly no.” Adriah fiddles his water bottle cap closed before putting it down. “I didn’t have enough time to do that, unfortunately.”

Shion doesn’t know what to make of him so far. “How is that an unfortunate thing?”

“It’s actually not,” Adriah says. “Because now you can tell me all about yourself!”

“Here, let me pull it up for you,” Shion says, reaching for his phone. Before he’s able to pick it up, Adriah covers it with his hand. “Do you really want me to go through the details of my entire career with you?”

“I do,” Adriah says. “I want to get to know you better. How will I choreograph for you if I don’t know you as a person?”

“Easy,” Shion says. “We pick some music, you choreograph, and then you teach me. I thought you did this full time?”

“I also coach at the beginner level for The Skating Academy,” Adriah informs him. “Choreographing doesn’t take up the whole year.”

That makes sense, but still. “I’ve been on the senior circuit for twelve years. That’s a lot of ground to cover. And it’s not like I have a bunch of dramatic stories to tell as I’m going.”

“I find it hard to believe that a five-time world champion doesn’t have dramatic stories to tell.”

Shion mentally facepalms. “So you did read my Wikipedia article?”

“I’ve skimmed it,” Adriah concedes. “But in my defense, anyone who follows figure skating has definitely come across your Wikipedia page at least once.” He meets Shion’s eyes, and it’s like Shion is losing yet another battle against him. For someone who comes across as exceptionally mellow, Adriah’s will is very strong.

So Shion gives in. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Adriah smiles. For some reason, the sight makes Shion curl his hands into fists. He hadn’t worn his gloves today, so his nails dig into the skin of his palms.

Shion talks. He starts from when he made his senior debut, in 2007. He talks about placing ninth at his first Worlds and fourth at his second. That would be the last time he would be off the podium, other than in 2017 when he withdrew from competition following an ankle injury. That was because he didn’t want to risk doing anything to jeopardize his physical health right before the Olympic season.

“Tell me more about the Olympics,” Adriah says. They’re doing laps together now, Shion nearer to the boards.

“What do you want to know about it?”

“Whatever you thought about it.” Adriah pulls the sleeves of his hoodie down. “What you thought was fun, what you thought was hard, what you thought was important.”

He’d placed fifth at his first Olympics, the year he turned 18. It had been such a shock to be there that Shion barely remembers anything about Vancouver. He doesn’t even remember what he had felt like in the Kiss and Cry with Samson, when his scores were announced. They had been personal bests, but not enough for the podium.

What he does faintly remember, is setting two world records, back to back in the short and long programs to win the gold medal in Sochi. He’d skated last in the free skate, so there wasn’t anyone else in the rink as he heard his score. Samson and Meian lifted him up as cameras flashed around them, and Shion raised his head to see the ice stretching pristine and white before him.

Meian had cried, and Samson too. Shion had been the one to console them, trying to get them to stop so they could take a photo together. He’d seen the pictures online the next day, Shion with an arm around both of them, huge grins on all their faces. _Nothing But Gold For Wonder Boy Inunaki Shion_ and variations thereof were splashed across all Japanese news sites within an hour of the results being announced. The name had stuck. He and Meian organized an ice show that summer for Shion to headline, and donated all the proceeds.

Pyeongchang had been an exciting affair for different reasons, even though Shion still took home a medal. He’d messed up so badly in the short program that it took a personal best, world record score in the free program to get him on the podium at all. He’d squeaked the silver by 0.45 points. It was still an achievement by all measures, but Shion couldn’t help feeling disappointed at the ceremony, looking down at his chest to see the color of the medal resting there. Meian had been so relieved that Shion had medaled at all that he almost forgot to go to the press conference afterwards.

Shion came to terms with it more or less when he won Worlds later that year. Hinata had climbed the rankings sufficiently enough for the bronze, and it was their first time sharing the podium at a world championship. That had been exciting too. Shion had been so relieved to announce that he’d be taking a season off. The official statement stated it was to rest and recuperate, as well as allow time for him to pursue hobbies that he’d been putting on hold for the sake of his career.

Except Shion had spent most of the year skating in shows and shooting advertisements. It didn’t leave much time for hobby-pursuing, but it had given Shion an itch to get back on competitive ice. He hadn’t seen that coming.

Well— he had. He just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“Why not?” Adriah asks.

Shion twists his hands together. It’s cold in this rink, colder than Broadmoor. He’ll have to remember his gloves from now on. “I guess I thought I would be done with competitive skating by the time I was this age,” he says. “When I was younger, I thought that the 2018 Olympics would be my final competition. I can’t believe I still want to do this after so long.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know.” Shion sighs. He doesn’t really want to talk about it. Adriah seems to understand, because he changes the topic.

“So you’ve done a charity show before?”

“Yeah, after Sochi when there was a lot of attention on me. I figured that was the best time to do it, and it was really fun to skate with everyone who also participated.” He smiles at the memory. “I remember I invited Shouyou, he had just turned 18 and he spent the entire time we prepared following me around. He’d just joined Samson’s group too.”

“How long has Samson been your coach?”

“Since I was 15, so… 2007? That sounds about right, it was after I won Junior Worlds and before I made my senior debut.” He pauses. “Wow, it’s been a long time.”

“Who was your coach before that?”

Shion doesn’t like to talk about that, but if he doesn’t answer then Adriah will probably ask more questions. “I bounced around coaches before Samson, when I was still in Japan. I skated at SC Karuizawa until I moved to Colorado.”

“What about Shuugo, how long have you been with him?”

“We took a chance on him, in 2012. He was 23 when MSBY Sports hired him and didn’t have a lot of experience, but I thought he would be a good fit with me.” Shion laughs. “And I was right. Before that, my parents managed all my things, but I didn’t want them to give up any more of their lives than they already had.”

“How long have you known Shouyou?”

Shion thinks back. “I haven’t trained regularly in Japan since I was 15, so I didn’t get to know him until after he won Junior Worlds and moved up to the senior level. I think that was 2013, so around then. We ended up rooming at the Olympics together too.”

Adriah stretches his arms over his head. “You seem very fond of him.”

“Of Shouyou?” Shion tries to think that he’s not too fond, but Adriah is probably right. “We roomed together at Sochi and Pyeongchang and he lost his ID card both years. Both years! You’d think he would’ve learned after the first time.” He shakes his head. “We were able to find it before it became an issue, but I still can’t believe he lost it so many times. He also freezes up in interviews sometimes and messes around in the warm up area, so… I don’t feel like I can leave him alone yet. I think I’m going to have to look after him for a little longer.”

“It’s like he’s your puppy,” Adriah observes. “But Shouyou told me that it’s your name that means puppy?”

Shion is going to kill Hinata right after Hibarida’s wedding. “Ignore him,” he tells Adriah. “Also, I didn’t know that you two were still in contact?”

“He messaged me a few days ago to catch up,” Adriah says. “He also said that both of you had a wedding to go to soon?”

“My choreographer’s wedding,” Shion says. “That’s why he isn’t choreographing for me now.”

“So I’m your second choice? That’s so mean.”

“You’re not my second choice!” Shion contemplates. He amends, “You’re my first second choice.”

“You’re terrible, Shion.” Adriah clutches his shirt, over where his heart would be. “I’m really hurt by your words, only you can fix me.”

“I’m not a doctor, Adriah.”

“It’s not a medical problem, obviously,” Adriah says. “It’s much more chronic and serious than that. Don’t underestimate heartbreak.”

“And what would you know about heartbreak? Are you confessing to me now that you’re a hopeless romantic?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, I’m so glad you understand.” Adriah straightens up, catching Shion’s eye before turning towards the entrance to see the next group come in. “Looks like we’re getting kicked out soon.”

That was fast. Shion had barely registered time passing at all. “We get the rink this afternoon too, right?”

“We do.” Adriah leans against the boards. “I think I’m going to look at the music you sent me during that time, if that’s okay with you. I’ll still be here, and you can use the rink however you want then.”

That’s fine with Shion. “You’re not going to stare at me the whole time?” he asks, wondering if he’s trying to make a joke, or if he’s serious.

“Is that what you want?” Adriah laughs. “Of course if it makes you happy I can even bring a sign with your name on it like I’m a fan of yours.”

“What do you mean? You have a sign with my name on it. I thought you were one of my fans.”

“You’re right,” Adriah says. “I definitely am. I mean, I definitely threw a stuffed animal on the rink after you finished your free program at TD Garden that year. If I recall correctly, you picked it up yourself.”

“Wait— I remember that, the purple giraffe holding a rose? That was you?” It had been such a weird looking toy that Shion couldn’t help but stop to look at it. He thinks he might still have it somewhere back in his house in Colorado.

Adriah places a hand over his heart again. He has such a flair for the dramatic, Shion thinks. “I can’t believe Wonder Boy Shion acknowledges and remembers me! I’ll never forget this moment, this feeling!”

“I can sign your phone case, if you want,” Shion says, because for some reason he gets that request a lot. He doesn’t understand why, but he’s gotten pretty good at it.

“I’m ordering a case now,” Adriah says, scrolling through his phone. Shion doesn’t know if he’s kidding or not. “It’ll be here soon, promise me you’ll sign it when it comes?”

He’s so ridiculous. Shion wonders if he’s going to be able to get used to Adriah by the end of their time together. “Of course, anything for my fans.”

Adriah seems pleased with that, as they’re exiting the rink. Shion gets his skate guards before he follows Adriah out. He holds the board open for Shion, right behind him.

#

Shion takes one day off a week from skating, and Adriah claims that day for himself under the pretense of showing Shion around Boston. He’s either a very subtle tour guide or a very bad one, because all they do is go on a run in what Adriah calls Boston Common.

They don’t even run very fast, because Adriah has to point out every dog they pass, and most of them are as excited to see Adriah as he is to see them.

“That was a friend from the gym,” Adriah says, as a tan chow chow trots away from them.

“The dog or the person?”

“The dog,” Adriah says, straight faced. Shion pretends not to notice. “Actually, you should come with me while you’re here.”

“To the gym?” Shion adjusts his left wristband. “There’s a gym at the hotel.”

“I just wanted to offer,” Adriah says. He’s still looking ahead. “It’s totally up to you.”

Shion doesn’t really have anything to say to that, so they continue along on their run. Adriah meets many more dogs, one of which is so excited to see him that he almost knocks him over.

“You must come here a lot,” Shion says, after Adriah picks himself back up and bids the dog and the owner goodbye. “How do you know so many dogs?”

“I run this course every morning at this time,” Adriah says. “Unless there’s something at the rink that takes priority.”

“Are you telling me that I’m a priority to you?”

“Of course you are,” Adriah says. “You’re paying me, aren’t you?”

Shion doesn’t realize it, but he stops where he is. Adriah runs for a few more paces before he notices, and looks back at him.

“What’s up?” Adriah asks. Shion doesn’t know what face he’s making right now, but when Adriah sees it, he immediately says, “I’m sorry Shion, that was a joke. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Is he offended? Shion doesn’t actually know why he stopped running. He doesn’t even know why he would be upset by such a comment, when it’s the truth. That’s why he’s here in Boston, Massachusetts, isn’t it? It’s not like he came to go on vacation. If Shion was going to take a vacation he would turn his phone off for two weeks and lay on the couch for the entire time, probably. Not take a six hour flight to the East Coast and spend every day with someone who asks a lot of probing questions.

“No, no.” Shion manages to pull a smile back on. “You just surprised me. I’m not offended at all.”

“Oh.” Adriah scrutinizes him. Shion decides that that’s his least favorite look on Adriah, so he starts running again. “Are you trying to leave me behind?”

“How could I?” Shion asks. “Your legs are like twice as long as mine.”

“I’m pretty sure you could outrun me if you tried,” Adriah says. “Didn’t you win five world championships? Or was that someone else who looks exactly like you?”

“Someone else, probably,” Shion says. He turns to look at someone at the corner. “What are they selling over there?”

Adriah squints a little. Shion wonders if he needs corrective lenses as he says, “Churros, I think. Do you want one?”

Shion only knows what those are because Sugawara got Shouyou hooked on them recently. “I’m good, actually. I was just curious.”

“Do you like pastries?” Adriah asks. “There are definitely bakeries with more than just churros that we can go to. Or do you not like churros?”

“I’m not a big fan of cinnamon,” Shion says. “I’m not allergic, but if I eat too much it makes my tongue feel weird.” He pauses, as they run by the churro stand. “Well, maybe I’m allergic.”

“Do you like cannolis? Or lemonade?”

Shion has never heard of cannolis. When he says so, Adriah gasps so audibly that people around them start staring. If Shion knew him better, he’d smack him.

“You’ve _never heard_ of cannolis?” Adriah puts a hand over his mouth, even though they’re still running. “Shion, are you okay?”

“I still don’t know what a cannoli is.”

“It’s fried dough rolled up and filled with cream,” Adriah says. “And you can put other things in it too.”

“So… it’s like a crab rangoon?”

“No! Those are savory. Cannolis are sweet.”

That seems like the only real difference between the two to Shion, but Adriah seems very dedicated to cannolis, whatever they are. He doesn’t say anything more on the subject, because he thinks that Adriah could possibly talk for hours about bakeries and Shion cannot handle the thought of that many carbohydrates. Instead of that, they stop for lemonade towards the end of their run. Adriah claims that this is his favorite lemonade in the entire world, so Shion has high expectations.

His expectations might have been a bit too high, but it’s still incredible to drink after their run.

“It’s hotter today than I expected,” Adriah says, as they’re both sipping from their cups. “I didn’t know it was going to be so sunny.”

Shion had looked at the forecast too, when he woke up. It had told him it would be cloudy in the morning, when it plainly is not. “I guess the weather app lied to both of us.”

Adriah had parked at Shion’s hotel before they took the subway to Boston Common, so they decide to go back to the hotel to shower. Adriah had called it _the T_ and helped Shion purchase something he called the _Charlie Card_. It actually says the words Charlie Card on the little plastic card, which Shion carefully puts in his wallet so he won’t lose it.

“It’s a good thing you keep a change of clothes in your car,” Shion says, as they’re going up to his room. “It’s not like I would have anything that fits you.”

“I’m hoping it’s something other than volleyball shorts in here,” Adriah says cheerfully. “That’s usually what I wear to the gym.”

“Do you play volleyball?” Shion asks.

“I did for a little bit a long time ago, but my parents told me I needed to choose one sport and stick with it,” Adriah says. “I was always tall so I thought about volleyball for a while, but I loved skating and my partner was great, so I decided on that.”

“I also played volleyball when I was young,” Shion says. “My dad played it throughout high school, so we always had a ball in the house. But it was definitely skating for me.”

“What helped you decide?”

“Nagano 1998,” Shion says. “My mom had tickets to the men’s free skate from work, so I went with my parents. I’d never thought about figure skating before, but seeing that changed everything. I think that night I told my parents I wanted to skate, so they started me on lessons.” He unlocks the door of his room. “I don’t think they took me seriously for the first year, though. I wasn’t a particularly fast learner.”

“But look at you now.” Shion thinks it would be too egotistical to agree with him here, so he settles on a smile. “Didn’t Samson Foster skate in Nagano?”

“He did,” Shion says. He remembers that as if it had happened earlier this morning. “Silver medalist.”

“So you were his gold medal, then,” Adriah says.

People have said that in the past, so Adriah must read the news. Shion agrees; he had tried to gift his Sochi medal to Samson, but he had resolutely declined, saying that this accomplishment was Shion’s alone. Shion had thought to himself that he would obviously never have been able to win without the support of Samson and Meian and his parents and everyone else around him, but he sensed that Samson wouldn’t change his mind.

“I hope he thinks so,” he says instead. “You can take first shower, if you want. Let me know if you can’t figure out how to turn it on.”

“How did you know I struggle terribly with hotel showers?” Adriah asks. He doesn’t leave much time for Shion to reply before he leaves to do so. He does end up needing help, Shion trying to shout directions at him through the closed door. Somehow he finangles with it long enough for it to work, and Shion collapses in a chair, more exhausted than he had been after their run.

After they’ve both showered and changed into clothes that are not volleyball shorts, Adriah takes him to get clam chowder, which Shion rates a solid nine out of ten.

“That feels like high praise,” Adriah says, as they’re sitting in one of the only empty tables at Quincy Market. It’s loud, so they have to lean closer to hear each other. “At least, I’ll consider it high praise.”

“It is high praise,” Shion says defensively. “Don’t make me sound stingy.”

“I would never,” Adriah says solemnly. When he laughs, he tilts his head slightly forward, so his bangs shift to cover his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re a picky eater or not, honestly.”

“I’m pickier than Shouyou, but that doesn’t say much because he’ll eat anything.” Shion crumples up his napkin in his hand. “I don’t think I’m that picky though.”

“I guess I just don’t know enough about you then,” Adriah says. “Not yet.”

It’s so loud in here. Shion frowns, trying to concentrate on Adriah’s voice so he can formulate a response to his words. There’s a band playing outside, which only adds to the noise. A bead of sweat forms at his temple, he feels it rolling down his cheek as Adriah continues to look at him. Does he ever stop?

“Well, you still have some time,” he says. Adriah must have not been expecting that, because his lips part like he’s surprised. It’s strange, Shion thinks. Despite everything, he can’t come up with a single place he’d rather be right now than here.

#

Adriah had said it was Shion’s choice if he wanted to join him at his gym, but it doesn’t feel like much of a choice when Adriah insists he come along after their allotted ice time for the day.

“I like to see all aspects of my skaters while getting to know them and choreographing for them,” Adriah says, like that’s an acceptable explanation.

“What, spending all day with me isn’t enough?”

“With you? No, it’s not enough.”

He says it so earnestly that Shion momentarily believes him. They’re in the parking lot, Shion next to the passenger side of Adriah’s car. Adriah is leaning against the door on his side, an elbow propped up on the roof.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shion says. “You’re sick of me already.”

“I am not! I could never.” Despite his tone, Shion gets in the car anyway. He’d brought his own resistance band from Colorado, so he has that with him on their way to the gym.

Adriah signs him in as a guest, and as it turns out Shion barely sees him while they’re there. He’s on the other side, on the yoga mats while Shion uses the elliptical and the weights. After a little over an hour, Shion goes to where he is to cool down.

“Why did you even want me to come with you?” Shion asks, as he begins his stretches. He bends over, pressing his palms to the ground. “It’s not like we were working out together.”

“But you’re here now,” Adriah points out. It’s true, but Shion still doesn’t understand why Adriah is so insistent sometimes. “Though if you don’t actually want to come with me I won’t ask again.”

“That’s— not what I meant.” Shion sits, bending one knee and extending the other. Adriah doesn’t respond immediately, and when Shion looks over he’s on his stomach, pillowing his head with his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you, of course.”

“Don’t be a creep.” Shion presses his forehead to his knee. From the way they are, Adriah’s shirt is riding up, and he can see the small of his back. He remembers what Hinata had told him, before he had left to come to Boston. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Shouyou told me you injured your back.” Adriah immediately stiffens when Shion says this, but he figures it’s already out there between them. So he continues. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know.” Adriah’s head is turned towards him. He hasn’t moved otherwise. “Classic career-ending injury. The doctors didn’t know if I would be able to jump again like I would need to, or if I’d ever be as flexible or dexterous as I used to be even if it healed.” Whatever emotions that he may have once felt about this is well controlled. “And I couldn’t. I wasn’t.”

“So that’s why you quit competition?”

“Yeah, that’s one reason,” Adriah says.

He doesn’t particularly seem to want to talk about it, but Shion is so curious. He’d looked it up, naturally, but he couldn’t find anything about it on the web. Adriah had been so young when it happened, and his career hadn’t been as in the spotlight.

“Did you ever think about switching to ice dance?” Shion asks.

“I did,” Adriah says. “But it was a long time before my back was healed enough for me to support someone else’s weight while skating. It would’ve been too dangerous.”

“How is your back now?”

“Better, it’s probably safer for me now to be skating like I want to be,” Adriah says. “But I don’t practice jumping anymore, and I can’t do all the different spins like I used to. I wouldn’t want to risk skating with a partner again either, because I don’t know how the lifts would go.”

Shion realizes he hasn’t switched positions in a while. He changes to a new one, leaning forward to extend his arms as far as he can. “Why did you start choreographing?”

“I’ve always choreographed, for as long as I can remember. I used to choreograph all of my programs when I was still competing, and I’d do them for other skaters too, on the side. So when I was injured and the doctors told me that my chances of full recovery were slim to none, I figured it was a sign for me to pursue what I really loved.” Adriah smiles at him, then. “I don’t think I was meant to be a competitor.”

Without thinking, Shion reaches out, putting a hand on the lower part of Adriah’s back. Adriah tenses, and when Shion looks up at him his eyes are wide. For some reason, Shion doesn’t pull away. There’s something that he can’t explain, that’s keeping him where he is. He spreads his fingers so that they’re flat against Adriah’s shirt, careful not to press too hard. He doesn’t know if Adriah is still in pain from the injury.

“Shion?”

As quickly as he could possibly move, Shion pulls his hand back like he’s been burned.

“Shit— I’m sorry, Adriah. I shouldn’t have done that.” He swallows with difficulty. “I shouldn’t have asked you all those questions, that was rude of me.” Adriah is still staring at him, shock evident in the way he’s arranged. “I’m sorry.”

Adriah sits up, on his knees which allows him to take Shion’s hand back towards himself. “You can touch me,” he says. “I’m okay with that.”

“Oh.” Shion can’t breathe— the gym hadn’t been that warm earlier when he was running, but they must have turned the air conditioner off. It’s stifling now. “Okay.”

“You can touch me,” Adriah repeats. He guides Shion’s hand to his cheek, and Shion feels the calluses on his fingers roughening up against Adriah’s skin. Shion wants to lean in. There’s only a couple centimeters of distance that’s separating them. It would be so easy.

Someone near them drops a weight, and the sound of the impact wakes Shion up. He draws back, physically moving his yoga mat with him as he does so. Adriah doesn’t move, but he does let Shion’s hand slip out of his grasp. He’s still watching Shion, like he hasn’t stopped doing the past few days.

“Sorry,” Adriah says, finally. “I must have read that wrong.”

Shion wants to pretend he doesn’t know what Adriah means, when it’s perfectly clear to him what just happened. If he didn’t know then it would probably be easier for Adriah to figure out how to act around him. That’s probably the right thing to do. They’re in public. Shion must be out of his mind, doing something like that in public.

“My bad,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to apologize about,” Adriah says, and he smiles, like nothing happened. “Have you been to dim sum before?”

“Are you trying to drown me in carbs? I distinctly remember you telling me you’d let me stick to my diet after Korean barbecue.”

“Oops, I must have lied,” Adriah says. “Does that mean you won’t trust me anymore?”

Shion barely trusts himself, right now, as things are. If he ever told Meian about this, he’d get at least a forty-five minute lecture on why he shouldn’t let his personal life interfere with his career. He’s only gotten part of that lecture before, when Hitoka broke up with him. Meian hadn’t used it that time, but Shion is pretty sure there is an accompanying powerpoint presentation that he’d rather die than sit through.

“I don’t recall ever telling you that I trusted you before?” Shion raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to put words in my mouth?”

“Well,” Adriah says. “Maybe that’s one of the things I’m doing.” He usually looks Shion in the eye when he’s talking, but today he hasn’t been. Shion swallows, and wants to be wrong about Adriah following the curve of his throat like he couldn’t possibly focus on anything else.

#

Shion weighs the pros and cons, and decides dim sum once in a long while isn’t going to hurt him. So they go for brunch, and Shion tries to decide which of the buns he’s going to eat as quickly as he can, because Adriah is faster than expected.

“This isn’t fair,” he complains, as Adriah takes the last soup dumpling. “How are you so good with chopsticks?”

“I learned just for you,” Adriah confesses, as he snags a lotus leaf wrap.

“Liar.”

“I would never lie to you, Shion.”

“You literally just did!”

“I don’t believe you have any proof?” Adriah swallows another dumpling. “You wouldn’t possibly make such a serious accusation against me without solid proof, right?”

“You should go to law school,” Shion says, without preamble. “Then you could make a living out of being this annoying.”

“I already make a living out of being this annoying,” Adriah informs him. “That’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it?”

Shion crams a dumpling in his mouth so he’ll stop himself from talking. Adriah smiles into his plate. Maybe he thinks Shion can’t see him. There is a finite number of times Shion can chew before he has to swallow, so he stretches it out as long as he can.

“I meant to ask you,” Adriah starts, “what kind of choreographer are you looking for?”

Shion had been about to pick up his glass of water, but he stops. “You’re asking me this now?”

“It’s easier for me to understand what you want if I already know you,” Adriah says. “And you’ll feel more comfortable talking to me about it once we know each other a little better.”

“I already hired you, Adriah.”

“I know that.” Adriah pours himself more tea. “Have you really worked with only one choreographer your entire career?”

“My entire senior career, yes,” Shion says.

“What about Shouyou?”

“Shouyou?” Shion doesn’t know the fine details about Hinata’s career. “I mean, I know he’s worked with more choreographers than I have, but that’s not saying much.”

“He told me Samson is doing his short program for next season the last time I talked to him.”

“That’s what he told me too,” Shion says. The teapot is almost empty, so he empties what’s left into his own cup. “What about it?”

“I was just wondering why you didn’t ask Samson to choreograph for you as well,” Adriah says. “Not that you’re under any obligation to do that or anything.”

Shion almost laughs. “Oliver asked me the same thing.”

“Oliver is?”

“Oliver is my personal trainer,” Shion says. He should text Oliver for an update on his plants soon. “In Colorado Springs. He trains both Shouyou and me, in addition to other skaters at Broadmoor.”

“Ah, I see.” Adriah takes a sip of tea, plainly waiting for Shion to answer his previous question.

“Samson and I have talked about it before,” Shion says slowly. “The choreographing, I mean. I always felt like Samson and I are a great match as coach and student, but I think we would clash a lot trying to choreograph together. This is just my opinion, but I thought it would be best to keep our relationship where it’s working. I couldn’t imagine being coached by anyone else.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

“I have,” Shion admits. “It always made me a bit nervous about going to one choreographer my entire career, but we just worked together so well. I feel like I need a bit more freedom than most when it comes to choreographing, and Hibarida understood that.”

“Do you think you’ll ever ask Samson to choreograph for you?” Adriah asks. “I’ve seen what he’s done for other skaters. It’s impressive.”

“Maybe,” Shion says. “I don’t know. It would have to be something that I felt that no one else could do. I’m not sure what that would be. Hibarida can work with any kind of music, though, so I’m not sure there will be something that I want to skate to that I wouldn’t ask Hibarida for.”

“Tell me more about him.”

“Hibarida? He lives in California with his fiancée, they met when they both lived in Japan. She’s a professional volleyball coach and joined a team in California so they moved together a few years ago.” Shion racks his brain. “I’ve been working with him since I was a junior, so he’s familiar with what jumps and spins I tend to use and is very flexible about transitions, because I can be a bit inconsistent and indecisive when a program isn’t finished yet. I like to think I’m dedicated to the choreography once the program is complete, though.”

“I also think you’re dedicated to the choreography,” Adriah says. “I noticed that, over the years.”

“Are you telling me right now that you’ve been a fan of mine for years now?”

“Didn’t you already know that?” Adriah smiles at him from across the table. He hadn’t brought up what happened at the gym, so Shion hadn’t either, but it sits like a stone in the pit of Shion’s stomach.

“Of course I did,” Shion says. “I just wanted to confirm.”

“I didn’t peg you as the insecure type, Shion.”

“Do you just say whatever’s in your head at any given moment? Like, is there no filter between your brain and your mouth?”

“Look who’s talking.” Adriah sticks his tongue out at him. Shion aims a kick at him under the table, barely grazing his shin on purpose. “Ow! Are you trying to hurt me?”

“As if.”

“That’s true,” Adriah says thoughtfully. “You could never hurt me.”

Shion has no idea why he says that. He doesn’t want to think about it, so he stares back down on his plate, and picks up another bun.

“I looked over the music that you sent me,” Adriah says. “I really like Experience for your short program, and I agree that Valse Sentimentale is a good fit for your free skate.”

“You like the Einaudi piece better than the Saint-Saëns?”

“I like them both,” Adriah amends. “But when I was listening to the Einaudi piece I could see you skating to it, you know? I could imagine what you would look like. If you want to go with The Swan, I’m open to that too.”

Even more than before, Shion does not want to think about Adriah listening to music and thinking about Shion. He has half a mind to call Meian and tell him that he can’t make this work with Adriah anymore.

“We can listen to them together before making a final decision,” Adriah suggests. “I got the feeling that you’re really sold on Valse Sentimentale, though.”

“I am.” Shion’s phone screen on the table lights up, so he flips it over. It’s a notification from Meian, like he can read Shion’s mind from over 7,000 miles away. “I’ve always wanted to skate to it, but it never felt right, until now. I think I’m mature enough to deliver a proper performance to it.”

“Didn’t you skate to Bolero when you were 21?”

“That program was choreographed to be appropriate for my skill level,” Shion says. It’s a small table, so he can flick Adriah on the forehead for the cheek. “It’s not like that was the greatest I was ever going to be.”

“You are deceptively strong,” Adriah says, wincing. “Are you possibly lying to me, and in reality are a weapon of mass destruction?”

“You didn’t realize that before? You know exactly how sharp ice skates are.”

Adriah laughs. The red mark between his eyebrows is already fading, even as Shion watches. “I still don’t believe you would hurt me.”

“I guess it’s up to me to prove you wrong,” Shion says, and he looks up at the fluorescent lights ahead of him, to avoid meeting eyes with Adriah again.

#

They take the T back to Adriah’s apartment, which is only a few stops away from the dim sum place in Chinatown. This is Shion’s first time here, so he lets Adriah lead the way.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” Adriah says, as they’re taking their shoes off.

Shion looks around. “This is what you consider a mess?” There are a few books on the coffee table, and some dropped leaves from the plant in the windowsill, but that’s pretty much it.

“What do you consider a mess, then?”

Shion is pretty tidy himself, but he wouldn’t consider the state of Adriah’s apartment right now a mess. “Worse than this is a mess,” he says. “But I think your plant needs more water.”

Adriah swears under his breath. He goes into the kitchen, coming back with a full cup. He pours it around the base of the plant, slowing down as it drains out the bottom, pooling in the saucer. “I’m terrible about keeping plants alive, but I don’t know how to stop trying to become a plant parent.”

“You could get a cat,” Shion suggests. “At least a cat would never let you forget about feeding time.”

“I do not feel responsible enough for a cat,” Adriah says wryly. “The guilt would be unimaginable, if something happened to a living animal that was under my care.”

“Did you grow up with pets?” Shion asks.

“I did, actually. We had dogs for as long as I can remember. There are pictures over there.” Adriah points Shion to the bookshelf that takes up most of the wall next to the window. There are multiple pictures of a small Adriah hugging dogs that are basically the same size as him.

“You had so many,” Shion observes. He passes a thumb over small Adriah’s face in the photos. His smile hasn’t changed even a little bit. “They’re very cute.”

“What about me?” Adriah prompts. When Shion doesn’t answer, he adds, “Was I not cute as a kid?”

“You cannot possibly expect me to answer that now that you’ve backed me into a corner,” Shion scolds. “What am I supposed to say, you were ugly then and you are ugly now?”

“I would cry if you said that for real,” Adriah tells him. “Luckily, I know that you would never say that to me! After all, no one can possibly look at me and think that I’m ugly.”

“Your personality is so bad.”

“But you seem to like it so much,” Adriah says. He steps closer, so their arms brush. Shion flinches away without meaning to, finding himself unable to look away from the photos of a young Adriah. “Don’t you, Shion?”

“Do you moonlight as a con artist?” Shion asks. “I never know what you’re trying to get me to do.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.”

“That coming from your mouth is just suspicious. No one could ever believe that.”

Adriah seems like he’s about to add something, before he visibly changes his mind. “Let me get my laptop,” he says, already halfway across the room. “You can make yourself comfortable anywhere.”

Shion sits on the couch. Adriah joins him, pulling the coffee table closer so he can put his laptop on it. He has glasses on now. They listen to the pieces that Shion had wanted. Shion leans back into the cushions, thinking about what Adriah said earlier about seeing Shion skate to these pieces. Shion can somewhat imagine as well, but that’s only because he’s more familiar with his skating than anyone else.

When the last note fades away, Shion asks him, “Were you for real, when you said that you could see me skating to Experience?”

“Of course I was,” Adriah says. “I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”

That’s the one Meian and Samson had been partial to as well, so Shion takes that as a sign to choose it. “Then let’s go with that.”

“That’s a lot of trust you’re placing in me, Shion.”

“You’re getting too full of yourself,” Shion says. “I wouldn’t pick program music on a whim.”

Adriah blinks. “I know that.”

“Oh— sorry.” Shion knows he’s flushing. He averts his gaze, balling his hands into fists in his lap. “I still don’t know when you’re joking sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Adriah says. “I’m not offended. I know you’re not actually trying to be mean.”

Maybe Adriah knows him better than he knows Adriah. How could that be possible, when they’ve met so recently? Adriah must choreograph for a myriad of skaters, perhaps so many that this is just business as usual for him. That isn’t a pleasant thought, amidst the many unpleasant thoughts that cloud the front of Shion’s mind whenever he’s around Adriah.

“Thank you,” he says, because there isn’t anything else he can say.

“Have you heard of Song for the Little Sparrow?”

Shion hasn’t, so Adriah emails him a file. “I think it would be a good match for you, for a program in the future. I wanted to share it with you because when I heard it I could see you skating to it.” Shion’s phone lights up with a notification. “You have really good control over your edges and I like how you use your knees during your footwork sections. It’s an emotional piece and I think you would be able to convey that well.”

Shion stares at him. He’s known that Adriah is a professional choreographer, of course, and he’s watched many of Shion’s programs in the past and must be familiar with his skating, but that’s the most he’s ever spoken about what he thinks about Shion as a skater. It shouldn’t be such a shock, but it is.

Adriah notices. “What?”

“Nothing,” Shion manages. He clears his throat. There is absolutely no reason that what Adriah said should be affecting him this much. He knows that he has good control over his edges and his footwork is advanced. None of this is a surprise. “I think— you surprise me every day.”

“I surprise you?” Adriah asks. “How?”

Literally every single thing about you, Shion thinks to himself. If they were in any other situation, Shion would be much braver than he is being now. He would press his mouth to the base of Adriah’s neck, and wrap his arms around him. He wonders if that would surprise Adriah, instead of the other way around. What would Adriah do, if Shion did that? What kind of noises would Adriah make, if Shion touched him again, without fabric between them this time?

Shion wants to know so badly that he feels sick. He hadn’t even eaten that much earlier when they were at dim sum because of this.

“I think we can move forward now,” Shion says. “Now that we’ve picked the pieces for the programs.”

“Okay.” Adriah’s hand hovers between them, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to do next, when he reaches for his laptop. “Let’s talk about how we’re going to edit, then.”

Adriah is definitely fast at this, which Hinata told him about but Shion hadn’t had a visual in his head of what that looked like. He’s very decisive about where to cut and paste sections, while preserving the original score as much as possible. He’s also very mindful of Shion’s comments as he edits, taking notes on the side when he needs to.

“Are there any sections that you feel must definitely be included?” he asks.

Shion notes the time stamps of the sections he wants from both Experience and Valse Sentimentale, and Adriah takes note of that too. Adriah offers him something to drink, so Shion sits with a water in his hand as he watches Adriah work.

“Sorry, this must be boring for you to watch,” Adriah says, after about an hour. “I can take you back to your hotel, or call you a rideshare.”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Shion says, for a reason he cannot put into words. “I like watching you work.”

Adriah’s shoulders are noticeably tight when Shion says that, and Shion wants to place his hands there too. He doesn’t know if that would help Adriah relax or if he would move away. Either one would be hard for Shion to accept, so he stays where he is, clutching his cup. At this angle and illuminated by the high light of the window, Adriah looks more and more like someone Shion could never bear to call a stranger.

#

“You’re blurry,” Meian complains, as Shion tries to set up his laptop’s webcam. The text earlier had been Meian telling him they need to video call soon, because they’ve both accepted Hibarida’s request to be groomsmen at his wedding. “I can’t see you.”

“Are you telling me you miss me right now?” Shion asks. “So badly that you cannot go a second longer without seeing me?”

“Please explain to me why I am always on the verge of breaking my contract with you,” Meian says. “I feel like that’s not a normal thing to feel.”

“You’re all bark and no bite, you know that right?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” Meian says. “I can’t believe it’s been less than a week and I forgot how unbearable you are.”

“ _I_ can’t believe you’re being so rude to me.” Shion smiles at the camera. “It must mean I’m very special to you.”

“I don’t think you understand what the word special means.”

“Ah, whatever.” Shion waves a hand. “How’s Japan?”

“I think I’ve gained over two kilograms since coming back,” Meian mourns. “I’m going to need to join in on Oliver’s training sessions.”

“You won’t even last half an hour.” Shion knows this because the first time he trained with Oliver, that’s how long he himself lasted before collapsing on the floor, completely out of breath.

“Ignoring that hurtful comment,” Meian says. “I sent in your measurements so your tuxedo should be ready by the time you get here. Your flight gets in at three in the afternoon so we’ll have time to go pick it up. Hopefully it’ll fit.”

“Yeah,” Shion says, thinking about Korean barbecue and dim sum and the cookie he had as a snack earlier. “Me too.”

“Have you discussed with Samson about the jumping passes you’re incorporating into your programs for the upcoming season?” Meian asks.

“I touched base with him before we left, and I talked to him last night too,” Shion says. “We’ve decided to not try anything new this season. All jumps that I’ve done in competition before. He also told me that our on-ice hours would be changing slightly because Broadmoor is hiring a new coach for beginner lessons.”

“I hope you’re actually planning on landing your quad loop this season.”

“What a mean thing to say.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

“You think I pay you to be mean to me? That’s not in the contract, I checked.” Shion actually had so he could prove a point a few months ago. “I was landing quad loops this week here.”

“Was Adriah there too?”

“Yeah,” Shion says. “I haven’t gone to the SC without him. He said he would give me his ID or a visitor one if I wanted to go at other times that weren’t our scheduled hours, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that.”

“Just be careful about practicing stuff like that when Samson or I’m not there,” Meian says. “Legally, Adriah isn’t obligated to take you to the hospital if something happens.”

“Yeah, because Adriah is the kind of person who would just leave me incapacitated in the middle of an ice rink,” Shion says, but he knows what Meian is telling him. He assures, “I’m being careful.”

“How is Boston so far?” Meian asks. “You’ve barely texted me the last week. Have you even talked to Hinata at all?”

“Apparently Adriah talks to Shouyou enough for the both of us.” Shion unscrews the cap of his water bottle. “Boston’s fine, I guess. It’s so humid here, I didn’t expect that.”

“Is the choreographing going well?”

Meian would destroy him if Shion was truthful about how it was actually going. So Shion says, “Better than expected. I’ve never seen anyone edit music so fast.”

“Good, that’s good,” Meian says, somewhat distracted. “So I was worried about nothing, then?”

“What were you even worried about in the first place?”

“You’ve never worked with any other choreographer during your senior career,” Meian reminds him. “Of course I was going to worry. I would’ve come with you if it weren’t for this wedding.” Meian’s phone goes off, but he ignores it. “By the way, I should warn you that Hibarida-san is groomzilla over here. I think it’s really cool that they want to do a Western style wedding and all, but this morning he had a meltdown because he decided that pink flowers for the ceremony should be more pink, but not red.”

“Does that even matter, when he’s marrying the love of his life?”

“I’m not even attempting to understand anyone who gets married,” Meian says. “I have too many grey hairs already.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Shion says. “I would’ve brought it up to you but I figured it was a sore spot. You should get that dyed while you’re still in Japan.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Make me.”

“If I didn’t have to fill you in on wedding details, I would hang up on you right now,” Meian threatens. “Hibarida-san wants you to give a speech during the reception.”

“What— why? I’m not the best man. You’re not the best man either. Are you giving a speech?”

“The entire bridal party is supposed to be saying a few words, all the bridesmaids and groomsmen.”

“This wedding is a nightmare.”

“You’re telling me! You didn’t have to apologize to anyone who would listen because Hibarida-san changed his mind about the napkins. No one cares what color the napkins are.”

“Hibarida-san obviously does.”

“He changed his mind from a grey-beige to a tan-beige. Those are both barely even colors.”

Talking about colors reminds Shion. “Is Atsumu coming to the wedding?”

“He RSVP’d yes, so I expect so,” Meian says. “It seems like he helped Hibarida-san quite a bit on decorations. Have you talked to him about designing your costume for next season?”

“I did a few weeks ago, and we agreed to catch up when we were both in Japan. I picked out music so I’ll let him know that tonight after I get off this call with you.”

“Do you have anything in mind so far? Colors or styles?”

“Nothing concrete,” Shion says. “Although I think Atsumu prefers it if I don’t express my ideas unless it’s a dealbreaker for me. He wants the freedom.”

“I mean, I think he’s earned it. I’m still impressed with the costume he designed for your Amélie free skate.”

Shion’s Pyeongchang free skate. One of the greatest performances of his entire career. His red costume had been a stark contrast against the pale ice, and Shion has read multiple theories online about what the color and design of the costume symbolized. “That was definitely one of his best,” he agrees. “I heard from Shouyou that he’s asking Azumane to be his designer for this next season.”

“That’s what Sugawara told me too,” Meian says. “Hinata’s supposed to be flying in a few days before you, so he’ll already be here by the time you come.”

“So I’m going to have to deal with both of you while I’m jet lagged? That’s just cruel.”

“Hinata will probably still be jet lagged, you know how long he takes to fix his sleep schedule,” Meian says. “So you’ll both be miserable together.”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”

“Do I sound happy?” Meian strokes his weak excuse for a beard that he’s been working on the last few months. Shion can’t wait until he shaves it off for the wedding. “I was going for sympathetic and empathetic. I’ll have to work on that.”

“Don’t even bother,” Shion says. “I can already tell that it’s a lost cause.”

“Your faith in me is so rewarding,” Meian says. “It makes me feel invincible to know that you believe in me, no matter what.” He pauses. “Oh, and it’s not publicized when you’ll be flying in, so there shouldn’t be paparazzi. I’ll send a security detail anyway, just in case.”

“Wouldn’t the security detail stand out more?”

“I’ll tell them to go plain-clothed,” Meian promises. “I’d come to pick you up too, but Hibarida-san is too unpredictable right now. I’ll meet you at the tailor instead.” He checks his phone, and sighs. “I have to get going, but I’m glad it’s working out with Adriah. Keep me updated on whatever happens.”

If Shion is smart, nothing will happen, and there won’t be anything to update Meian on. “Sure thing. See you next week, and good luck with Hibarida-san.”

“I’ll need it,” Meian sighs again, before Shion ends the call. He composes an email to Miya, detailing what he’s decided on so far. His finger pauses over the touchpad before he sends the message, thinking about how Adriah must be editing the music for Shion’s programs, if he hasn’t already turned in for the night.

He’s probably still up. Adriah strikes Shion as someone who disregards the passage of time when there’s something he’s concentrating on. Shion wouldn’t ask him about something like that, he doesn’t think. That’s something he would only want to find out for himself, if it was allowed.

#

In the four-something hours between their private ice times, Adriah plans to go back to Boston Common, because apparently he works better there. “Do you want to come with me?” he asks. “If you have a book you want to read, or something.”

Shion brings a book that was recommended to him by Sugawara, but he ends up using it as a pillow as he’s lying on his back in the grass. He opens his eyes to watch the clouds floating by, the birds in the area intermittently flitting into his field of view.

“It’s so nice and peaceful here,” he says, as Adriah clicks away on his laptop. “I can see why you like it.”

“It’s not always quiet,” Adriah says. “But when it is, it’s my favorite place to come get work done.”

Shion smiles without meaning to, when he’s looking up at the sky. There’s a slight breeze, and it lifts his hair up. That probably means he needs a haircut, so he’s glad he has an appointment before Hibarida’s wedding. Meian had told him that Hibarida absolutely forbade day-of cuts, which Shion somewhat understands. But if he got his hair absolutely butchered two days before the wedding, it’s not like much could be done in that time anyway. There would just be an extended period of panic.

But it’s Hibarida’s wedding and not his, so he won’t say anything. Meian seems very tired, more tired than when he’s dealing with Shion and Hinata combined, which is saying something.

“Can I ask you something?”

Adriah looks up. “Of course.” He’s on his stomach next to Shion, so Shion can still see his face.

“What’s your favorite part of being a choreographer?”

“My favorite part?”

“Yeah, like why do you do it? What’s the appeal?”

Adriah tilts his head, closing his laptop so he can fold his arms on top of it as a makeshift pillow. “Are you thinking of becoming a choreographer?”

“Not really,” Shion says. “You just always ask me a lot of questions about myself so I want to ask you questions about you from time to time.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“Answer the question, Adriah.”

Adriah laughs. “Okay, okay. I think probably… I definitely think it’s really satisfying when a program comes together on its own. Like it’s already been created, we’re just discovering it for the first time, you know? It choreographs itself.”

Shion thinks he follows what he’s saying. “That’s what my Inception free skate was like.”

“It was a beautifully choreographed program,” Adriah agrees. “It made me want to watch the movie again, if I’m being honest.”

“I watched that movie so often that season,” Shion says. “Pretty much whenever I had the time. I think I had it memorized from start to finish by the time Worlds was over.”

“You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling,” Adriah quotes, trailing the tip of his finger down Shion’s cheek.

“Our dreams feel real while we’re in them. It’s only when we wake up we realize things were strange,” Shion quotes back, closing his eyes. Adriah’s hand lingers where it is now, and Shion wonders if this was a dream, it would be much easier to ask Adriah the question that he actually wants to ask. If there could be something that temporarily dominates his instinctive reaction.

Adriah takes his hand back. The spell breaks. Shion hears him open his laptop again, and the keys resume clicking.

Shion can imagine what he looks now, a furrow between his brow as he adjusts his glasses, the screen faintly reflected in the lenses. Adriah usually doesn’t have dark circles, but there are shadows under his eyes today. So Shion was probably right that he was up late editing.

“Shouyou told me that he’s headlining a show this summer,” Adriah says, after a long while of comfortable silence. “And that you’ll be there too.”

“Yeah,” Shion says. “The Ice. You’d think Shouyou would pick a flashier name. There was an all out war between him and our agency and his manager trying to name that show. I think Hitoka convinced him to keep it as simple as possible for publication and design purposes.”

“I thought she wasn’t Shouyou’s translator anymore?”

“She’s not, she works for a design company in Tokyo now and they were hired for the show.”

“I see,” Adriah says. “So you keep in contact with her?”

“God, no. I’m not that self-sabotaging.” Shion keeps his eyes closed, because he doesn’t want to see what Adriah looks like right now. That’s not something he can imagine, either. “I’ve just heard through the grapevine what’s happening.”

Adriah closes his laptop again. “Are you not headlining any shows this summer?”

“I’m not,” Shion says. “I wanted to focus as much time as possible on competition because I’ve been away for a full season. I’ve never taken this much time off before, and I did a lot of shows last summer anyway.”

“Shouyou invited me.”

“To the show?”

“To skate in the show.”

Shion does open his eyes, at this. He lifts himself up on his elbows. “Really? Did you accept?”

“I did.” Adriah smiles. “So I’ll see you in Japan this July.”

“That’s so exciting, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me until now!” Shion playfully smacks Adriah’s shoulder. “I’ll have to return the favor and take you sightseeing.”

“I heard you’re pretty famous in Japan, can you walk around in public without getting mobbed? I was under the impression that the streets were lined with your endorsements.”

“That’s not true at all,” Shion says. “I don’t know who told you that, but they are most certainly wrong.” It’s actually the truth though; Shion hasn’t really gone around to the popular shopping districts since the one time he had to hide from the crowds in a boutique’s bathroom for an hour before Meian could come get him.

“What products have you done advertisements for?”

“You haven’t watched all of my advertisements and you call yourself my fan? That’s just disgraceful.”

“Give me a break,” Adriah pleads. He’s trying not to laugh. “I was so busy getting to know you as a person.”

“Air conditioners,” Shion says. “Running shoes, chocolate, cologne. Watches. Japan Airlines, Power Curry, Boss Coffee.”

“Japan Airlines?”

“Yeah,” Shion says. “They had a plane with my face on it once, before the Olympics. It was very embarrassing.”

“I would love to be on a plane with your face on it, Shion.”

“You could always get my face tattooed on your body somewhere,” Shion suggests. “That would show me how dedicated you are.”

“Mere ink cannot embody my devotion to you,” Adriah says. “Besides, no one could ever be able to draw a tattoo as beautiful as the real Shion.”

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that to me.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Shion is going to lose it if Adriah keeps talking. So he says, “Power Curry is a triple axel.”

“What?”

“That’s the tagline for my Power Curry advert,” Shion says. “Recently they also hired another guy. He’s a volleyball player, so his line is, Power Curry is a service ace.”

“They actually made you say that the curry is a triple axel?”

“Yeah, look it up. It’s on the web somewhere.” Adriah does, and laughs way too hard when he sees Shion finish a scratch spin and recite his line. “Why is this such an awkward commercial?”

“Kageyama’s is much more awkward,” Shion says defensively. “But that’s probably the worst one of mine that’s floating around out there. Most of my endorsements are very well done.”

“I’m going to need proof to believe that,” Adriah says. “Especially after watching you say, Power Curry is a triple axel, with such a blank expression.”

“Have you lost all faith in me, Adriah? Are you not one of my beloved fans anymore?”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Adriah digs through his bag to produce a white phone case. “It came in the mail yesterday. For you to sign, remember? You promised.”

“You actually bought a case?” Shion asks, bemused. “I was so sure that was a joke.”

“I would never joke about something as important as a Shion-signed phone case.” He looks through his bag a little longer before he produces a sharpie. “Here!”

“You sure are prepared,” Shion says. He appraises the case, flipping it around so his autograph will begin at the bottom of the phone. “I’m almost completely sure you’re never going to use this.”

“I’m going to put it on my phone right after you finish signing it, actually. Don’t underestimate a superfan.”

“You’re a superfan now? That’s news to me.” Shion signs the case with a flourish, thankful that he remembered how big he should make the first half of the autograph so the second half will fit. His muscle memory has always been reliable. He draws a heart-eyed smiley face in the corner, for good measure. He hands it back to Adriah. “Here you go. Congratulations on your superfan title.”

“The happiest moment of my life,” Adriah proclaims, carefully touching the case with only the tips of his fingers. It had been made out of some kind of fabric, so the permanent marker wasn’t smudging.

“How are you going to use that as a phone case if you’re going to handle it like that?”

“I don’t know,” Adriah wails. “I didn’t think it through this far.” He looks at the case, and then at Shion. “If I mess this one up, will you sign another one?”

“Of course,” Shion says. “Anything for my superfans.”

True to his word, Adriah snaps the newly signed case onto his phone. “It looks so good!” He holds it up to admire. “I love it. Thank you, Shion.”

It feels weird for him to be thanking Shion for something like this, because Shion doesn’t consider him a fan, not at all. If anything, he’s a friend, or another word along the lines of that. Shion doesn’t look at his other friends like he looks at Adriah, and he definitely doesn’t spend any time thinking about what it would be like to finish kissing them like he does with Adriah.

Adriah is his choreographer, above all else. He’s not someone Shion can take the initiative with.

The way Adriah is smiling at him now, it would be much easier if Shion could call him his friend. Regardless, Shion lays back down, following the sky with his eyes until he can’t find his way out.

#

Adriah’s gym is much bigger than the hotel’s, so Shion accepts his invitation to go back again. Shion has a menu that Oliver had prepared for him before he left Colorado Springs, but Adriah doesn’t seem to be following any guidelines when he decides what he’s going to do on a particular day.

They’re earlier than usual, when they’ve both finished showering. Adriah is frantically digging through his bag as Shion dries his hair off with a towel.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, slinging the towel over his shoulders.

“Please don’t be mad,” Adriah says, turning his bag upside down to empty its contents on the bench next to him.

“Mad about what?”

“I forgot my laptop charger at my apartment.” Adriah is going through all of his belongings. How does he even fit that much stuff in a normal sized bag like the one he has? “I’m so sorry! Is it okay if we go back to pick it up? If you don’t want to be late for your ice time, you can also take the T back by yourself.”

“Do you really want to head up a search and rescue party on this beautiful day? I’m terrible with directions.”

“Oh, yeah. Shuugo did mention that. He said something like, Shion is so helpless without me so please take very good care of him, he cries very easily.”

“He said _what_ —”

“I’m really sorry, Shion! Is it okay if we stop by my apartment?”

So this means both Hinata and Meian have sold him out to Adriah. Shion hates them. “Yeah, that’s no big deal. You don’t even live far from here, and we’re early anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding!” Adriah sweeps all of his things back into his bag. Shion thinks that that must be the messiest part about him.

It’s only a handful of blocks to Adriah’s apartment, and it actually is a beautiful day, so Shion suggests they walk.

“Are you sure? We might be a little late getting to the rink, then.”

That’s something that would normally irk Shion to no end, but he finds that he doesn’t mind right now. “That’s fine with me.”

Adriah points out different shops along the way, describing each with both his words and his hands. He’s so animated as he talks. Shion thinks briefly about Hinata’s Scheherezade short program, and how he had been impressed by the delicate movements embedded into each second of the choreography. This must be where it came from.

“Shion?”

Shion almost walks straight into a tree planted within the sidewalk, when Adriah yanks him to the side. He trips over himself, but Adriah’s hands are on either side of his arms to steady him.

“You should watch where you’re going,” Adriah says lightly, letting him go. “Don’t you make a lot of money with your face?”

“Sorry— thank you.” Shion bites his bottom lip. “For stopping me, not the face comment.”

“Is it not true?”

It’s true, Shion will admit that. He makes a fair amount from his endorsement deals. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Is that why you train in the States?”

“Is what why I train in the States?”

“You’re walking around here in Boston like it’s nothing but you seem like you’re very famous in Japan,” Adriah says. “I imagine that would be a difficult environment to train in.”

“Maybe,” Shion says. “I started training in Colorado Springs before I was really well known so that’s not why I moved there, but whenever I’m in Japan for shows or competitions, it can be difficult to get to places quickly.”

“Do you bring bodyguards with you?”

“In airports, usually yes,” Shion says. “If I’m meeting up with friends we’ll try to coordinate it so I won’t have to, because it’s not very fun for security or me if I’m seen.”

“You have friends?”

Shion can’t help it; he laughs. “Yes, Adriah, I have friends. Is that really so surprising to you?”

Adriah turns away, color spreading down his neck. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. You just don’t talk about anyone other than Shouyou or Shuugo or Samson. So to me they seem like your whole world.”

“I don’t see my friends in Japan very often, because I moved away before high school,” Shion says. “They’re my friends from middle school, that I kept in contact with.”

“So you went to high school in Colorado?”

“I did.”

“Was that difficult for you?”

“Yes, but high school is difficult for everyone, right?” Shion tilts his head to look up at him. “My mom grew up in New York before she moved back to Japan, so I grew up speaking both languages. The language barrier wasn’t really the problem. I think I was just very shy and that prevented me from making a lot of friends.”

“Did your parents move to Colorado with you?”

“They both did, for the first year. Then my dad went back to Japan, so it was my mom and me until I turned 18 and graduated high school. I lived on my own after that, but they still acted as my managers until we hired Shuugo.” They’ve reached Adriah’s building, and Adriah holds the door open for him. “I had Samson though, so it’s not like I was completely alone.”

“I can’t imagine that you were shy,” Adriah says, as they’re climbing the stairs. “Are you actually an introvert?”

“I’m definitely an introvert,” Shion says, trying to hide a smile. “Did you not think so?”

“I couldn’t tell at all,” Adriah admits.

“Well,” Shion says. “Maybe that means I feel very comfortable around you.”

Adriah is bending over to pick up his laptop charger from where it is under the coffee table. He straightens up, but he’s facing away from Shion. “You feel very comfortable around me?”

Shion probably shouldn’t have said that. “I meant, you’ve been a great tour guide and a friend to me since I arrived here.”

“A great tour guide and a friend,” Adriah repeats. Shion only looks away for a second when Adriah steps closer to him. He has to lean back a little to see Adriah’s face. It’s unreadable. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Do you?” Shion asks, skeptically. Adriah has never made this expression before, so he has no idea what to make of it. “Did I say something wrong?”

Adriah puts his bag down on the couch, sitting down next to it. He unzips a pouch to put the laptop charger inside. “Not at all, Shion.”

Shion sits down on the edge of the couch, on the other side of the bag. There’s a charm on one of the zippers of the bag that he’s somehow never noticed before. When he examines it in his hand, it seems to be custom made, with a photo of a dog. It looks like one of the dogs in many of Adriah’s pictures. He says, “This is cute.”

“Thank you,” Adriah says. “It was a gift.”

“From?”

“My former partner. She got it for me when I decided to retire.”

“That’s a nice idea for a gift,” Shion says. “Maybe I should take notes.”

He’s about to drop the charm, when Adriah catches his fingers with his own. His don’t have as many calluses as Shion’s does, but they’re in all the same places. They must both hold their blades the same way during spins. Shion has never noticed that either, but this one is probably because he had been too afraid to look.

Adriah doesn’t let go, as he squeezes Shion’s hands a little harder. Shion feels his center of balance tipping forward, so he leans into the momentum.

Right before he makes himself look at Adriah, he realizes something.

“You’re wearing my cologne.”

That makes Adriah stop. “What?”

“My cologne, the one I endorse,” Shion says. He doesn’t even wear it himself. “I never noticed that before. Do you always wear it?”

“If you’ve never noticed it before, then maybe it’s the first time.”

Shion stares at him, his mouth slightly open. Adriah’s expression is still unreadable, but after a few seconds it clears, and he smiles.

“It was also a gift, Shion,” he says, getting up. He slings his bag over his shoulder. “We should get going, or we’re going to be late.”

He’s talking about the rink. Their ice time. Shion checks his watch, and sees that if they leave now they should still make it. By the time Shion is able to collect himself, Adriah is already outside, waiting for him to join him.

As Adriah locks the door behind them, Shion wonders if there was anything that he could’ve done, that would have stopped this all from happening. It’s a futile effort, but it’s also the only thing he has ever learned how to do.

#

Hinata texts him immediately after he wakes up from his post-flight nap, so Shion video calls him on his laptop when he gets back to his hotel room.

“Wan-san!” Hinata yells. “It’s been so long, how have you been? You barely answered any of my texts since you left Broadmoor.”

“Sorry about that,” Shion says. Hinata must be in his own hotel room, judging by his background. “How was your flight?”

“I couldn’t sleep at all,” Hinata says. “I watched so many movies, did you know that there are 8 movies in the Fast & Furious series?”

“You didn’t sleep the entire flight back?”

“I slept a little bit,” Hinata concedes. “I think I missed most of the fifth or sixth movie, because I was super confused after that.”

“You watched the entire franchise in one sitting?” Shion shakes his head. “I don’t understand you.”

“What was that? I thought I just heard you say that you missed me.”

“It’s all in your head.”

Hinata laughs, and Shion finds himself following along. “How is Boston? I haven’t been there in so long, have you tried a cannoli yet? I remember Adriah loves those.”

“Why does that keep getting brought up to me? And no, I haven’t.”

“They’re so sweet, I couldn’t eat more than one. But you should definitely try it at least once before you leave!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shion adjusts the angle of his monitor. “Did you finish your short program with Samson?”

“I did, it didn’t actually take us that long,” Hinata says. “We decided on Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1.”

“That’s a good choice, I can’t wait to see it.” Shion smiles. “I’m also skating to Tchaikovsky next season.”

Hinata sits up straighter. “You’re finally skating to Valse Sentimentale?”

“Yeah,” Shion says. “Samson approved of it and Adriah did too, so I’m glad that worked out. We’re still working on editing right now.”

“What about your short program?”

“Experience, the Einaudi piece. I was torn between that and The Swan, but Adriah made a good case for Experience.”

“I hope you skate to The Swan soon though,” Hinata says. “I think Atsumu-san could design a perfect costume to go along with it.”

“Atsumu could probably do anything if we asked him,” Shion points out. “Didn’t Hibarida-san have him help out with the wedding?”

Hinata props his chin up thoughtfully. “I think so? I haven’t talked to him in a while, because I’m asking Asahi-san to design for me this season.”

“You’re breaking poor Atsumu’s heart, how will you even begin to take responsibility for that?”

“I don’t think Atsumu-san has a heart?”

“Jury’s still out,” Shion agrees. “Are you staying in Japan until The Ice?”

“No, I couldn’t live in a hotel room for that long,” Hinata groans. “I’m spending a week and a half here with Ukai-san before coming back to Broadmoor. I thought about staying at home because Ukai-san is already in Sendai, but it would be hard for me to get ice time if I did that. Bokuto-san offered to let me stay with him in Tokyo so I wouldn’t have to fly so much, but two months with him felt like a lot.”

Shion also couldn’t have lived with Bokuto for two months, so he understands. “I heard you invited Adriah.”

“I did! Did he tell you?”

“Yeah,” Shion says. “You couldn’t tell me about it yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Wan-san! I completely forgot and you were so busy right up until you left Colorado Springs, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re always bothering me.”

“Wan-san is a bad liar,” Hinata says. “Do you like working with Adriah so far? Do you miss Hibarida-san?”

“Adriah is…” Shion trails off, unsure of what to say. Before he’d called Hinata, he had been thinking about what Hinata said back then, that Adriah liked to get to know his skaters before he choreographed for them. Adriah had said the same thing, and Shion can’t stop thinking about if this is something that’s nothing new for Adriah. If he’s done this a hundred times before and Shion is just next on the list. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is something wrong, Wan-san?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Shion swallows. “When Adriah was your choreographer, how did that work?”

“What do you mean?”

Shion flounders. “Did you two spend a lot of time together?”

“Yachi-san came with me so I mostly was with her. We saw Adriah at the rink and sometimes for dinner but for the most part Yachi-san and I went sightseeing on our own. Is that what you wanted to know?” When Shion doesn’t reply immediately, Hinata raises his voice, “Is Adriah being mean to you?”

“What? No, no, he’s not being mean to me.” Shion bites the inside of his cheek. “Thanks for telling me that, Shouyou.”

“Do you not like Adriah?” Hinata’s eyes are wide as he frowns.

It’s just the opposite, Shion thinks wryly. “It’s not like that, I was just curious at what your experience was like. That’s all.”

“He told Yachi-san and me about different things we could do while in Boston,” Hinata says. “We went on the Duck Tours! That was really cool.”

“That sounds like something Hitoka would like.”

Hinata inhales sharply. “Oh— I’m sorry, Wan-san. That was tactless of me.”

“What?” It takes Shion a second to realize what Hinata is talking about. “Shouyou, it’s fine. I’m not hung up on her or anything.”

“You’re not?”

“Do I seem like I am?”

Hinata furrows his brow. “I honestly don’t know, Wan-san. You never talked about it so I only know what Yachi-san told me, which wasn’t much. I just figured if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up yourself.”

Shion hadn’t really talked to anyone about Hitoka, until Adriah asked him the evening he flew into Boston. Not even Meian had probed too much after giving Shion his spiel. “When she broke up with me, she said that I would never love like I loved my career, and that I would never put her first.”

“What? That’s not true at all, Wan-san! You loved her, didn’t you?”

“But she was right, wasn’t she?” Shion hears himself say the words more than he registers the action itself. “I wouldn’t ever put her first, and she knew that.”

Hinata stares at him, at a loss for words.

“We dated for two years, and we never once celebrated her birthday together because I was participating in the Challenger Series,” Shion says. “We barely celebrated our anniversaries because I was always competing or practicing or modeling for an endorsement, and I couldn’t accommodate her university schedule. That’s pretty shitty of me.”

“But you were just doing your job,” Hinata protests.

“Yeah,” Shion says. “I was. That’s not a reason she should settle, though. Doesn’t she deserve someone who can be something more for her? I can’t be mad at her for that.”

“I guess not,” Hinata says, with uncertainty. “I never realized anything that was happening between you two.”

Hitoka asking him out had been just like when he was asked to the prom, the day after he flew back from Vancouver. He’d completely forgotten about prom until then, and had been so surprised he’d accepted without giving it too much thought. It had been fun. Shion thinks about it fondly, but in retrospect, shouldn’t it all have mattered more to him? It’s not that Hitoka didn’t matter — Shion just goes about his day and the rest of his life and sometimes forgets what had happened.

Is that a normal thing? How often is he supposed to think about his first kiss and his first love, even if they’re not currently in his life anymore? He can’t ask Meian about it, because Shion would rather go skydiving without a parachute than talk in depth with Meian the gritty details of either of their personal lives. He can’t ask his friends back in Japan about it, because he can’t risk this information being leaked to the public.

But he’s here now, looking at a screen with Hinata on the other side. Shion can’t think of anyone else who he’d rather talk to right now.

“Neither of us were very good at talking about it,” Shion says. “Maybe if we’d been better about being open about it, it would have ended differently.” He rolls his neck to work out the kinks. “I don’t regret dating her though.”

“Yachi-san is pretty amazing,” Hinata nods. “Suga-san is great too, but it was fun to have someone around who was the same age as me.”

“But I also don’t regret breaking up,” Shion says. “I’m glad she did.” He smiles. “Thanks for listening, Shouyou. You’re such a great friend.”

“I’m Wan-san’s best friend,” Hinata corrects. “I’m happy you told me about it, even if it is a year late.”

“If there’s a next time, I promise to keep you in the loop,” Shion says.

“A next time? Is Wan-san dating somebody? Is it someone from Broadmoor? Oh, let me guess, don’t tell me! Is it—”

“That’s not what I said,” Shion interrupts. “Stop speculating, there’s nothing to know.”

Hinata deflates. “Do you really promise to tell me everything?”

“Sure, but maybe you should worry about your own life,” Shion says. “Starting today, you’re going to have to help Meian-san reign in Hibarida-san. You’re not going to have any time to worry about me.”

“Hurry up and join us, Wan-san! I miss you!” Hinata waves, as he’s going to end the call. Shion waves back, and looks at the empty screen for far longer than what must be normal, before he begins getting ready for bed.

#

“This is what I have so far,” Adriah says, after he sets up the audio in the rink. “Please be as harsh as possible when you’re critiquing me.”

“I’m not sure I can do that,” Shion says, from where he is outside the rink. “What if you cry? I won’t know what to do.”

“I can’t think of a single thing you could possibly say to me that would make me cry,” Adriah says. “You wouldn’t do that!”

“Watch me.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be watching me.” Adriah takes his place center ice, waiting for the music to begin. The first few notes of Experience filters through the rink, as Adriah starts his choreography.

It’s nothing like what Shion had imagined, which makes him all the more captivating to watch. Shion would never have thought to use the music like Adriah is. It’s more like he’s playing with the notes than he’s skating to them, like he’s holding them in his hands and sending them off to do his bidding. Shion knows the importance of skating with the music rather than on top of it, but things like that are easier said than done.

Adriah has incredible control of his blades, and they’re almost silent as they carve their path through the ice. As he’s watching, Shion realizes he has never seen Adriah skate to music like he is now. The zamboni had run right before they got there, so each scratch upon the surface is made anew.

“Well?” Adriah asks, as the music loops around again. He comes over to where Shion is standing. “Thoughts?”

“You really think I can pull off something like that?”

“What are you talking about?” Adriah leans against the boards. “I choreographed this thinking about you. It’s for you.”

Had he always been like this? Or is this just Shion over-analyzing everything now? “It’s amazing, Adriah, I love it. Thank you.”

Adriah seems very pleased with that, judging by the way he turns away to hide how big his smile is. “It definitely still needs some work and I think the footwork section might need to be redone depending on how you perform it. But I’m glad you like it, at least.”

Shion would correct him on that, but he thinks Adriah already knows that he did good by this music. They run through it together, a few seconds at a time so Shion can get all of the details down. There are a few sections where Shion prefers to turn the opposite way to begin his crossovers, or where Shion is faster, so another element needs to be incorporated to match the timing.

“I know you mentioned that you want your combination and axel in the beginning and your stand alone jump in the second half,” Adriah says. “So I tried to accommodate for that.”

Shion presses his gloved hand against his forehead. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need that second half bonus this upcoming season to make up the points. The quads are getting to be a bit much in the field.”

“What are you planning to jump?”

“If I’m going to be safe then probably a quad toe-triple toe for my combination and a quad salchow for my other jump,” Shion says. “But I think I’m going to need the loop, for the points. So I’m probably going to do a salchow in the combination instead. Samson also thought that was the best way to rack up as many points as possible.”

“Do you know what Shouyou is jumping yet?”

Shion snorts. “Shouyou changes what he jumps all the time, he’s so flexible that way. I can’t do things like that. Knowing him, he’ll probably be putting his quad lutz in combination and either a quad flip or salchow as his other jump.”

“Didn’t you include the quad flip before?” Adriah asks. “I feel like I remember that from one of your free programs a few years ago.”

“Ah,” Shion winces. “Yeah, it didn’t go very well. I landed it in competition once but it was shaky, and I’m honestly surprised I didn’t fall on it. Samson and I decided to take it out for safety, until I had more control over it. I’m more of an edge jump person.”

“I figured about the edge jumps,” Adriah says. Of course he has. “Isn’t there another Japanese men’s singles skater who has been skating well the last few seasons?”

“Kunimi,” Shion says. “I don’t know him all that well, but he was at the Olympics with Shouyou and me, but he was rooming with one of the curlers. I think he’s about Shouyou’s age. I don’t remember anything about him when he was a junior, but his jumps have been getting really good recently. His spins have always been amazing, though.”

“This isn’t related, but I miss your layback spin.”

“Old age gets all of us,” Shion says grimly. “I’m not as flexible as I used to be.”

“Old age? Aren’t you 27 this year?”

“No offense to you.” Shion ducks when Adriah tries to flick him in the forehead. “Wow, so your reflexes are getting away from you too, huh. I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“You’re the absolute worst,” Adriah says, but he doesn’t look even remotely irritated. “Let’s run it again.”

By the end of the hour, Shion thinks he has a good idea of what the program layout should be. Adriah clumsily films a run-through that doesn’t include jumps on his phone so they can review.

“Why is this so shaky?” Shion asks, trying not to laugh as they’re watching. “Weren’t you resting your elbows on something to stabilize?”

“I’m an amateur,” Adriah says defensively. “Don’t judge me too harshly.”

“Well at least we know you went into the right field,” Shion says. “I don’t think you were meant to be behind a camera.”

“Because I belong in front of it? That’s how good looking you think I am?” Adriah leans down so they’re level. “I’m so flattered, Shion.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth again.” Shion rewatches the footwork sequence again. “Can we run through this together? I think I’m getting sloppy at some points because I can’t remember how it’s supposed to go.”

“Sure.” Adriah takes his skate guards off and joins Shion on the ice. “The whole thing?”

“From after the flying spin,” Shion says. “The first half of the step sequence is fine but I think after the cantilever I’m having trouble transitioning.”

“I think if you incorporate half a turn there it should make it feel more natural,” Adriah says. “Let’s try it like that.”

They run through it twice before Shion thinks his movements are relaxing. They do it a third time, Shion concentrating as hard as he can coming out of the cantilever into the turn. The next step flows more naturally after that, as he’s memorizing the bend of his arms as an extension of himself. They’re almost to where Shion would begin the final combination spin, when Adriah’s blade slips. Shion doesn’t see him fall, but he hears it. He stops, so Adriah can pick himself back up.

Except he doesn’t, at least not immediately. They fall all the time, that’s what figure skating is, but getting back up shouldn’t take this long.

“Are you okay?” Shion calls, as he skates over. “That didn’t sound too great.”

“I’m fine,” Adriah says, his voice tight. “I must be out of shape, to be tired already.”

He doesn’t seem like he’s that tired to Shion. He hadn’t really been sweating earlier, but he looks pale and clammy now. Shion kneels, taking off a glove and pressing the back of his hand into Adriah’s cheek.

“You’re cold,” he says.

“We’re in an ice rink.”

God, he’s so annoying. “I mean, you don’t look so good. Did you hurt something when you fell?”

“Not at all, Shion.” Adriah gently removes Shion’s hand from where it still is. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’m done for the day, though. I have a visitor’s pass for you that you can use during your ice time this afternoon.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shion doesn’t believe him.

“It’s nothing,” Adriah says, sharply. Shion flinches back without meaning to. “Sorry for leaving early. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Adriah, will you just tell me what’s wrong—”

“I told you,” Adriah interrupts. “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about it.” When he gets up, his face twists, and Shion has to support his arm so he won’t fall again. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Shion is pretty sure that’s an understatement, but Adriah is able to skate to the boards unassisted. So maybe it actually isn’t serious. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I won’t need anything,” Adriah promises. “But thank you, I appreciate that.”

Shion wants to say something as Adriah takes off his skates, but something about the expression Adriah is wearing stops him. He’s not sure if it’s his place to say anything anyway, or if Adriah would even listen. In the end, Shion’s still on the rink as Adriah waves to him before leaving. He’s never thought about it before, but from the back, Adriah looks as familiar as the ceiling of his Boston hotel room.

#

Adriah sends him an updated final draft of his short program music long after Shion has already fallen asleep, so he sees it first thing in the morning. He listens to it, to notice that Adriah had cut the transition between the cantilever and the rest of the footwork so there would be a second less for Shion to fill. It would make it much easier for Shion to handle it now. Without thinking, he brings up Adriah’s contact information on his phone and presses the call button.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Oh— did I wake you?”

“No, but I’m still in my pajamas and in bed,” Adriah says sleepily. “Does that count?”

“Sorry for calling so early,” Shion says. “I got your email.”

“Did you approve of the changes?”

Shion did, but instead he says, “Could I come over? I have a few questions about it.”

“These questions are so burning that they can’t be discussed over the phone?” Adriah gives a small laugh.

“Is that okay?”

Adriah doesn’t respond immediately, but Shion doesn’t say anything else. Finally, Adriah sighs. “Will you be able to get here by yourself?”

“Yes,” Shion says, because he’s going to call a rideshare instead of trying to figure out the T. “I’ve paid attention every time we’ve gone to your apartment.”

“You’re going to call a rideshare, aren’t you.”

Damn. “Okay fine, yes, that’s what I’m going to do. It still counts.”

“I never said it didn’t.” He thinks he hears Adriah stifle a yawn. “I’m going to need like an hour and a half to get my life together first, though.”

“That’s fine,” Shion says. “I’m still in bed too.”

Adriah bids him a sleepy goodbye. Shion lays in bed for a few more minutes staring at nothing before he makes himself sit up. After he’s showered and dressed, he goes downstairs for some toast while he waits for his ride. It arrives five minutes late, so Shion is consequently five minutes late knocking on Adriah’s door.

Adriah opens it immediately. “I thought you died.”

“Because I was a little late? You’re so dramatic.”

“How was I supposed to explain to Shuugo that the one time I let you out in Boston alone, I lost you and you were never seen or heard from ever again?”

“Let me out? I’m not a dog.”

“But Shouyou said—”

“Please know that the more words of that sentence you say, Shouyou’s fate becomes graver and graver.”

Adriah shudders. “You’re scary.”

Shion knows that, so he smiles. “Only when I need to be.”

Adriah isn’t exactly limping as he goes into his kitchen, but there's something off about him. “Shion, do you want coffee? Or tea?”

“Tea would be great, thank you.” Shion follows him, leaning against the refrigerator as Adriah fills the kettle. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Of course,” Adriah says. “Why, do I look bad?”

“What— no! That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

Adriah has shadows under his eyes again. Shion would point them out to him to make fun, but he’s preoccupied by the way Adriah is carefully turning his entire torso when reaching for things. “Is it your back?”

“What about my back?”

“Are you always this difficult?”

“Are you always this intrusive?”

They stare at each other until the kettle boils, which prompts Adriah to break away from his gaze. He pours two mugs, carefully handing one to Shion. It smells like English Breakfast. One of Shion’s favorites, and he’d only told Adriah that once.

“Sorry,” Shion says, as he puts his mug back on the counter next to him. “If you don’t want to talk about it then I’ll respect that.”

Adriah surveys him over the rim of his own mug as he takes a sip. It must still be too hot, because he puts it down right after. He says, “Will you help me ice my back?”

“Ice your back?”

“Yeah,” Adriah says. “I hurt it yesterday when I fell. I called my physical therapist and he told me to ice it every few hours for a day or two, and it should be okay.”

Shion bites down on the urge to ask him if that had been so hard to say. It probably had been. “Of course I can help you.” Adriah shows him where the ice packs are, and Shion wraps one in a towel before he goes to the couch. “How long should this stay on?”

“Ten to twenty minutes.” Adriah is lying on his stomach, head propped up on a throw pillow above his arms. “I have to try hard not to fall asleep whenever I do this.”

“Is staying still really that hard for you?”

“It is, Shion. It truly is. I’ll die if I stay still for too long.”

“Unbelievable,” Shion mutters under his breath. He gently places the wrapped ice pack on Adriah’s lower back, where he had once put his own hand. “Is this the right place?”

“A little up.” Shion moves the ice pack. “Right there, thanks.”

“Is it giving you a lot of pain when you’re walking?” Shion asks, sitting down on the floor next to the couch.

Adriah turns his head so they’re facing each other. “Not really, but I feel like I can’t move as freely, because every once in a while it’ll hurt. I’ve done this before, and it usually goes away after a few days.”

“I thought you said your back was better now.”

“Something that’s been broken once can be mended, but it will never be like it was before it was broken,” Adriah says. “You’re an athlete, I’m sure you know that.”

“I did know that,” Shion says. “Sorry, that was an insensitive thing to say.”

“You’re not insensitive at all,” Adriah says. Shion looks up to see that Adriah’s plant is wilting again, and mentally sighs. He gets up, bracing a hand on the couch next to Adriah’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To water your damn plant, Adriah.” Shion gets a cup from the kitchen and fills it with water. “How long have you had this poor thing?”

Adriah can’t turn to watch him, but he’s clearly thinking hard. “Maybe a month or so? Its predecessor lasted a whole three months.”

“Adriah, it’s not that hard to keep a plant alive,” Shion says. He pours water in the saucer, because he prefers to bottom-water his plants. “How do you keep yourself alive?”

“The plant doesn’t tell me it needs more water,” Adriah protests. “How am I supposed to know?”

Shion looks down at all the dropped leaves on the floor. He hopes that this isn’t what his own plants look like currently. “Are you really asking me that right now?”

“Will you give me plant advice if I call you?” Adriah asks. Shion goes back to sit next to him. “You won’t be too busy for me?”

“Yes, I’ll give you plant advice,” Shion says dryly. “I’m not that busy, I don’t know why you would think so.”

“No reason,” Adriah says. “Only that you’re an Olympic-level athlete who has about a million endorsements, one of which involves his face on an airplane.”

“I make time for people who are important to me, Adriah.” The way he should have for Hitoka. The way he tries every day for Hinata and Meian. The way he could for Adriah, if that was an option.

“Am I really that important to you?” Adriah is smiling, but his tone is serious. Up close, his eyelashes are longer than Shion ever realized. They’re long enough to cast a shadow over his cheeks when he looks down. “That makes me so happy.”

Shion involuntarily brushes Adriah’s bangs out of his eyes, resting his hand where Adriah had once put it before, and said that Shion could touch him. Adriah’s expression doesn’t change as he does so; he maintains his fixture on Shion, who doesn’t meet his eyes. Shion drags the tip of his finger from Adriah’s earlobe down his jaw, stopping right before he gets to his lips. How easy would it be, to kiss him right now? Would it feel like something like they’ve been doing all along, or would the novelty carry him away? Shion usually presses these thoughts so far down they’d never see the light of day, but in this moment they’re all he can conjure.

But he already knows: it wouldn’t be easy. Not in the slightest. He drops his hand, getting back up. “I’m going to get my tea,” he says. He doesn’t need to give an excuse, but the way Adriah looks at him draws one out of him anyway.

When he gets back with both mugs, Adriah is sitting, the ice pack next to him. They talk about the short program music, while Shion holds his tea in his hands. Adriah asks him what he thinks about the transition between the first two jumping passes, and Shion continually asks himself, how could there not be even a miniscule gap between what’s too much and not enough?

#

The day before Shion’s first last day in Boston, Adriah offers to drive him to the airport.

“You really don’t have to,” Shion says, as they’re taking off their skates. They’ve just completed the finishing touches on Shion’s short program. It’s cemented in Shion’s mind now. “I can still call a cab or take the T.”

“You’re not going to take the T,” Adriah says. “You’ll miss your flight for sure.”

“You really don’t trust me at all, huh.”

“With the T? Of course not.” Adriah slips his shoes back on, redoing the laces that had come undone. “I know you at least that much.”

So Adriah picks him up at the crack of dawn the next morning, because Shion’s flight leaves a little before eight. Shion hasn’t slept, because he prefers to leave the sleeping for the near thirteen hours he’ll be on a plane after his layover.

“Where did you say your layover was again?”

“O’Hare in Chicago.” Shion yawns. “God, this is going to suck. I’m just glad I remembered my noise cancelling headphones.”

“You have everything, right? Including your passport?”

Shion pats the zipped up pocket of his jacket. “I triple checked that I had everything before I gave back my hotel key card.”

“You must fly a lot,” Adriah says. “I’m way more nervous than you are right now whenever I’m about to get on a plane.”

“Well,” Shion says. “I am an athlete who competes internationally. Flying is kinda part of the job.”

“I wouldn’t know that personally, would I?” Adriah gives him a smile to let him know that he’s not mad. “I kept forgetting to ask you this, what are you skating in Shouyou’s show in July? He asked me to send his manager my music and I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’m skating to an abridged version of my Amélie program from two seasons ago and a new exhibition,” Shion says. “I thought about unveiling one of my new competition programs but I decided to save that for the actual season.”

“Who choreographed your new exhibition?”

“I did,” Shion says. “I always choreograph my exhibitions myself. I have been since 2015.”

They’re at a red light, so Adriah turns to look at him. “I didn’t know that.”

“Probably because I didn’t tell you.” Shion nudges him when the light turns green. “Although if you read my Wikipedia page you would’ve seen it.”

“I guess this means I’m being stripped of my superfan title,” Adriah says. “What a sad day.”

“There’s still time for redemption,” Shion assures him. “You’re working on my free skate, aren’t you?”

“Your expectations must be very high,” Adriah says lightly. “I hope I can deliver.”

Shion already knows that he will, even though he has no idea what Adriah will weave together in the week Shion will be in Japan. But he does know that whatever it is will surprise him.

“What is your new exhibition to?” Adriah is asking. They’ve just merged onto the highway.

“Voices by Cheap Trick.”

There’s already the beginning of traffic clogging up the road. “That’s one of my favorite songs. Could it be that you knew that?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Shion says. He hadn’t known, but if he had then he would have wanted to skate to that song even more. He’s somewhat glad that he was able to choreograph that program without thinking about Adriah the entire time. “What are you thinking of skating to?”

“I’ve toured with Stars on Ice a couple times over the last few years, so I was originally going to revamp one of those programs,” Adriah says. “I’m still thinking about it though. I’ve always wanted to redo the choreography of my program to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.”

“By Frankie Valli? That’s so perfect for you.”

“Why? Because I’m so good looking that everyone always looks at me?”

“Do you ever hear the words that come out of your mouth?” Shion lowers the visor to block the sun in his eyes. “You must know how they make you sound.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adriah says cheerfully, adjusting his own visor. “And I don’t hear you denying it?”

“I already know you’ve made up your mind about yourself,” Shion says. “I’m not going to waste my breath.”

“All I hear is you saying that you think that I’m handsome,” Adriah says. “Isn’t that the truth?”

“Handling your ego is a full time job,” Shion says. “And I’m already employed.”

“Shion, do you drink at all?”

Shion turns to look at him, but Adriah is facing the road. “Not often, because it messes me up pretty badly. Why?”

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to celebrate together once we’re done with both programs,” Adriah says. “Only if you want to, of course. And we don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

Shion can barely remember the last time he drank with a friend. “Why, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Hmm,” Adriah says. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“Afraid of you? Never.”

Adriah laughs. “You’re so funny, Shion. I think you’d be fun to drink with.”

Shion swallows. “Then let’s do it, once we’re done.”

Adriah smiles in response, but doesn’t say anything otherwise. He changes the radio station every time a song ends, which Shion finds strange. Subconsciously or not, he hums along to whatever’s playing.

Shion looks out the window to the Boston skyline. Has it really been two weeks already? He can’t recall the last time he spent a full two weeks by seeing someone everyday like he had with Adriah. He doesn’t even see Meian or Shouyou or Samson that often. There’s almost always a day’s break after multiple days of contact. He hadn’t even gotten sick of Adriah during the past two weeks, despite telling him so multiple times.

Adriah hadn’t believed him, and he had been right. Shion wasn’t sick of him at all.

A part of him had thought these two weeks would last much longer than this. On the tail end of things, Shion finds himself wishing that it wasn’t over.

“You fly back one week from today, right?” Adriah asks, pulling Shion off his train of thought. “What time?”

“I think the official time is 4:15 in the afternoon,” Shion says. “And yes, one week from today.”

“I’ll pick you up,” Adriah offers. “If that’s okay.”

“You’re the one who’s doing me a service,” Shion points out. “Which I appreciate, by the way. Thank you.”

“I do feel appreciated,” Adriah says, and Shion doesn’t know if that’s supposed to be a funny comment or not. “Do you want to stay with me when you come back? It’s only a few days, right?”

Shion had booked a room in the same hotel, but he hadn’t told Adriah that. “Are you really sure that that’s okay? I don’t want to impose for that long. It’s a week.”

“If I didn’t want you staying with me, then I would say so,” Adriah says firmly.

Adriah’s couch is pretty comfortable. Shion thinks he would get a good night’s sleep on it. “If it’s really okay, then yes, I would love to stay with you.” He can cancel his hotel reservation when he’s in Chicago during his layover. Or message Meian and ask him to do it.

“I would love to have you,” Adriah says. Shion wonders if he actually sounds pleased, or if that’s just Shion projecting. They’re pulling into the parking lot now.

“You don’t have to park,” Shion says quickly, before Adriah makes the turn. “Dropping me off up there is fine.”

Adriah doesn’t protest, and slows to a stop in the drop off zone. Shion unbuckles his seatbelt, preparing to get out of the car.

“Shion,” Adriah says. When Shion turns towards him, Adriah beckons him closer. Inexplicably, Shion finds himself being drawn towards him. Adriah places a hand on his shoulder, balancing himself as he whispers into Shion’s ear, “Call me if you miss me.”

His lips graze the curve of Shion’s jaw; he makes no effort to move away. Shion stays frozen to where he is, his hands clutching the arms of the seat. His heart is beating so loud that he’s now afraid that Adriah can hear it in their proximity. Shion must be imagining things, because he thinks he can hear the hammering in his chest echoed within the pulse of Adriah’s exposed wrist against him.

Adriah sits back and smiles at him, popping his trunk open so Shion can get his carry-on bag. Shion waves before turning around to go inside, and for a second he sees Adriah’s face take on something that he has never personally been able to conceptualize.

But it’s nothing. Just a trick of the light. Shion walks away, and exercises all his self control to not look back.

#

Shion doesn’t know how, but the news of his return to Japan spreads like wildfire on social media. The security guards are able to contain the crowds, as Shion fishes a face mask out of his carry-on before exiting the plane. He knows he looks like shit after such a long flight, and he doesn’t want his parents to see pictures of him looking like that on the news.

He waves to everyone, and even signs a few autographs on posters of himself that Shion hasn’t seen in so long, before Meian texts him to hurry up.

By the time he gets to the tailor, the shop is getting ready to close for the day. They have less than an hour left.

“Took you long enough,” Meian says. Hinata is next to him, still getting measured. “How bad was it at the airport?”

“Not bad at all,” Shion says, tucking his carry-on under his chair. “I figured it would be worse if word got out, honestly. There weren’t that many people from news stations. It was mostly fans.”

Meian scrolls through his phone. “Do you want to see?”

“How ugly I look? Why would I want to see that?”

“Wan-san isn’t ugly!” They must be done measuring Hinata, because he’s joined them. “Can I see?”

Shion is kind of ugly in the pictures, they collectively agree on that. He’d used a face wipe and applied moisturizer within the last hour of the flight, but nothing says international flight like how terrible his hair looks right now.

“Wait, stop,” Meian points at a picture. “Hinata, can you save that to my phone? I want to keep it forever.”

It’s a picture of Shion halfway through a blink as he’s leaving the airport. “Are you kidding me right now? Do you want to keep your job?”

Hinata looks between them. “I don’t know what to do.”

Meian snatches his phone back. “I’ll just do it myself.”

“You’re dead to me,” Shion tells him.

“You should see all the pictures I have of you when you’re mid jump,” Meian says. “Those are easy because people will literally post collages of them online. It’s very convenient.”

“You are the most unlikeable person I’ve ever met,” Shion says. He’s about to add more, but the shop attendant brings out his tuxedo, so Shion goes to try it on.

“It looks so good, Wan-san!” Hinata says, as Shion is looking at himself in the mirror. It actually does fit very well. He can tell now, that he’s gained some muscle back. “When were those measurements from?”

“I think the summer of 2017,” Shion says. “So when I was in really good shape.”

“How’s Boston food treating you?” Meian asks.

Shion winces. “I haven’t stepped on a scale in a while, so I’m just hoping for the best.” He looks in the mirror again, to admire himself. “But I guess I haven’t let myself go too badly.”

“Did you finish your short program?” Hinata asks. He’s unwrapping yet another piece of chocolate from one of the shop’s candy bowls.

“Yeah, the day before I flew out,” Shion says. He steps down, about to head to the dressing room. “It turned out a lot better than I expected.”

Meian looks like he has some questions, but he waits until Shion is changed back into the clothes he was wearing before. “Looks like he did end up being a good fit, then?”

“You worry too much,” Shion says. “It’s not like getting my choreography done by Hibarida-san determined my entire fate.”

“Do you think you’ll ask Adriah again?” Hinata asks. He’s on his fifth piece of chocolate. “I was going to ask him to do an exhibition program for me next year.”

“If I ask him again I’ll ask for a competition program,” Shion says. “And I don’t know yet. I’ll have to see how this upcoming season goes before thinking about the next season.” Hinata crumples up all of his wrappers to throw them away. “You and Kunimi are really giving me a run for my money.”

“Who do you love more, between the two of us?” Hinata asks.

“I can’t stand you,” Shion tells him. He checks his watch, and sees that he needs to change the time on it. “I’m going to head to the hotel. I’m scheduled to sit in the bath for six hours.”

“Sounds good,” Meian says. He’s on his phone again. “You have a salon appointment tomorrow morning, and a late lunch with the bridal party right afterwards. That’ll probably take up the whole afternoon, so I wouldn’t plan on doing much else tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Shion pulls up the handle of his carry-on. “What about the day after that?”

“Rehearsal with the bridal party, without the bride and groom,” Meian says. “So we can go over our speeches. Did you write yours yet?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“That’s great, just fantastic.”

“Aren’t I going to have dinner with my parents after that?” Shion asks.

“Yeah,” Meian says. “A driver will pick you up after rehearsal and take you to the restaurant. I made you reservations under your name at your parents’ favorite place.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“When you say that, that just sounds like a lie,” Meian sighs. “And after that, we’ll have the wedding rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner. Then finally, one day after that, this nightmare will finally be over.”

“You mean it will be the happiest day of Hibarida-san’s life?” Hinata pipes up.

“We can only hope,” Meian says to him.

Shion runs a hand through his hair. It’s sticking up everywhere, except for areas it's weirdly flat. He keeps having to brush it back because his fringe is irritating his eyes. “Are you coming with me tomorrow?” he asks Meian.

“Coming with you tomorrow to where?”

“You know,” Shion says. “The salon. You need a dye job for your grey hairs.”

“Meian-san has grey hairs?” Hinata asks, immediately standing on a chair to try and see the top of Meian’s head. “Wait— stay still, Meian-san. I can’t see.”

“Is it really still just a job if it consumes every single aspect of my life?” Meian asks, to no one in particular.

“So is that a yes?” Shion prompts.

“Fine, fine. Yes, I also have an appointment tomorrow. It’s around the same time as yours, so we can go together.”

“You must be so happy,” Shion says. “You love going places with me.”

“Two weeks,” Meian says. “I was rid of you for two weeks, and now you’re back, like a great curse omikuji.”

“I am not a great curse omikuji! You are blessed to have me in your life!”

“You’re going to have to fix that personality of yours if you’re going to make it through more fan meetings,” Meian tells him. “We’re going to be starting those up again before The Ice.”

Shion hasn’t held a fanmeet since before the most recent Olympic season. Somehow that was already two years ago, when the measurements for this tuxedo were taken. “Have tickets already gone on sale for those?”

“They went on sale months ago, I told you about that.”

Shion does not recollect being told such a thing. He should really pay attention whenever Meian is talking to him. “Are you sure? Maybe you forgot.”

“Wait, be quiet,” Meian says, looking around. They’ve exited the shop, about to get in the car that’s waiting to take them back to their hotel. “Do you hear that?”

Hinata starts looking around as well. “Hear what, Meian-san?”

“You really don’t hear it?”

Shion leans against his carry-on. “There’s literally nothing. I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s strange.” Meian looks around them again. “The wind just told me that Inunaki Shion is a piece of shit.”

Shion takes a swing at him, which Meian easily dodges. “I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Really?” Meian grins. “Then why are you smiling?”

Hinata lets out of breath in relief. “That was so mean, Meian-san! I don’t mind if you make fun of Wan-san but please don’t scare me in the process.”

“Neither of you appreciate me for who I am,” Shion huffs. “It’s very insulting. And you, Shouyou.” Hinata starts when Shion calls him out. “I heard you told Adriah that I’m a puppy. I hope your self-defense skills are up to par.”

“I was just trying to be friendly!” Hinata protests.

“Just get in the car,” Meian says. Shion resists the urge to run over his foot with his carry-on, but he makes sure it’s a near enough miss that Meian has to jump back at the last second. It’s childish, he knows, but it’s more than worth the look on Meian’s face.

#

Shion has only been in the car for about fifteen minutes before Meian calls him. He’s not expecting it because Meian doesn’t call the phone he uses in Japan. He’s calling Shion on Line instead, so he accidentally drops the phone and in his haste to pick it up, kicks it under the seat in front of him.

Meian calls back a minute later, after Shion has somehow managed to drag the phone out with the tip of his pinky nail.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Meian asks. “I thought you’d be done with dinner by now.”

“I am done,” Shion says. “I’m in the car.”

Meian pauses, like he’s going to ask a question. He seems to decide against it, because all he says is, “How are your parents doing?”

“Good, I think,” Shion says. “My mom liked my hair. I told them I’d actually come home in July when I had more time.”

“Did they bring up the story of the time you got stuck in the seatbelt of the car when you were little?”

Shion sighs. “They only bring that up when you’re there too, because they know that that’s your favorite story.”

“It is my favorite story.”

“Why is it that you derive so much happiness from another person’s misery?” Shion asks. “I feel justified when I say that you’re a bad person.”

“Oh, it’s not just any person,” Meian says. “Just you.”

“I feel so special. Almost as special as I felt when I met your parents and they told me that you once dyed your hair blue, and showed me pictures.”

“And you think I’m the bad person?”

Shion laughs. “Why are you calling, anyway? Do you need something? Was my groomsman speech actually bad?”

“What? No, that was fine. I’m really surprised you threw that together so quickly and it came across incredibly heartfelt.” He sounds annoyed as much as he does relieved. “I was actually wondering if you heard anything about your ice hours changing at Broadmoor, I think you mentioned Samson said something like that to you. I wanted to get that straightened out before I went on vacation.”

Shion gave him the three weeks following Hibarida’s wedding off. Right after that is when Shion is returning to Japan to prepare for Hinata’s show and hold fan meetings, so Meian must be trying to be proactive about things. “I haven’t heard anything. I actually forgot to ask, so that’s on me. He’ll be at the wedding though, so I’ll ask him then.”

“Do you think Hinata or Sugawara would know anything?”

“Maybe,” Shion says. “Worth a shot.”

“I’m messaging them now,” Meian says. A second later, he adds, “Oh, Hinata already saw it. He said he knows that they’re hiring the new beginner’s coach and that’s it.”

“So pretty much what we already know,” Shion says. “I’ll make a note to myself to ask Samson when I see him in two days.”

“That sounds good to me,” Meian says. “I doubt Samson would be cutting your hours drastically or anything. He wouldn’t let Broadmoor do that.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Shion says. “That’s probably why I haven’t been really concerned about it. Kunimi will be at the wedding too, right?”

“He’s at table 3, so I hope yes,” Meian says. “Otherwise there will just be an awkward empty seat.” There’s a rustle. “Sugawara said he hasn’t heard anything either.”

“So weird.” Shion squints out at the darkness beyond the window. “Hopefully it won’t be a problem for us. I think I’ve just been so wrapped up in getting these programs completed and trying to figure out how I can get the edge on Hinata and Kunimi in regards to points. Nationals is going to be difficult this year.”

“Kunimi has definitely improved so much since changing his jump coach,” Meian agrees.

“He’s so tall, everything he does looks graceful,” Shion says. “Even when he would fall on all his jumping passes, the artistry was still there.”

“I heard he’s been discussing moving overseas,” Meian says. “Have you talked to him at all?”

“I don’t even know his phone number,” Shion admits. “We follow each other on Instagram and that’s pretty much it.”

“The public one or your private one?”

“Public.” Shion has a public instagram that is 90% dedicated to his endorsements, and his own private one that only a handful of people follow. “I don’t even follow Adriah on my private.”

“Hibarida-san will be so sad to hear that you’re this happy with another choreographer,” Meian says. “What will he do with himself now that his baby bird has left the nest?”

“I am not a baby bird.”

“You’re right, you’re not,” Meian says. “Those are cute.”

“I handed you that one, don’t be so proud of yourself.” Someone swerves into their lane in front of them, and Shion almost hits his head when his driver is forced to slam on the brakes. He adjusts the phone next to his ear. “Do you really think Kunimi would move overseas? He just revamped all of his jumps, and they seem to be working.”

“I don’t know, maybe he thinks that he can learn better in a different environment with a different coach,” Meian says. “Isn’t Mizoguchi his jump coach? Maybe he’s moving and Kunimi is following him.”

Shion has no idea. “If Kunimi starts landing three different quads in his free skates, that’s going to be difficult for me to beat. He already has the toe and the salchow. We already have jumping bean Shouyou, there doesn’t need to be another one.”

“I mean, Japan has three spots in men’s singles to Worlds next year at least,” Meian says.

“How can you possibly expect me to go to Worlds with my pride intact if I lose my first National title a few weeks before that?” Shion says. “I don’t even know how I’ll react.”

“We probably won’t find out,” Meian says. “Adriah sent me a video of you running through the short program. I think that’ll be hard to beat, if you’re in good condition by Nationals.” He rarely praises Shion, so he’s too surprised to answer right away. “I’m expecting rough early season performances from you though. I’m not expecting too much at the Challenger Series and the Grand Prix circuit if you’re invited to that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I meant that you’re probably going to have a slow start to the season because you’ve been away for a full year,” Meian says. “Stop taking it personally.”

“Do you always have to say something mean right after you say something nice?” Shion asks. “Is that your way of balancing yourself out? Because it sucks.”

“It’s so rare that you admit that I’m saying something nice about you,” Meian says. “Let’s focus on that.”

“You’re making that very difficult for me.”

“Ah, just doing my job.” There’s the clacking of a keyboard in the background. “I mean, you’re not going to be competing forever, right? I have to do my job while I can.”

“I’m not that old,” Shion protests. “I still have lots of good years left in me. At least until the next Olympics. You’ll get to sit in an Olympic Kiss and Cry next to me again.”

“How did you know that was my dream? You’re too kind.”

“Your dream isn’t to have me as your best man at your wedding?” Shion pauses. “Actually no, scratch that. I should be the one officiating.”

“I would rather I never get married, than to have you be the one to pronounce me married,” Meian says. “I can’t even imagine the horror I would feel when turning around and seeing your face staring back at me.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Shion says. “I doubt you’ll ever be able to trick someone into marrying you. If you somehow manage that, I’d fight to get you a full four weeks of paid time off.”

“That’s… actually really generous of you,” Meian says. “Can you get me that even if I don’t get married?”

“I got you three weeks,” Shion says. “Make your peace with that.”

“I’ll try my best,” Meian says, completely sincerely. “Okay, I have to send a few emails, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early to pick up the tuxes. The tailor wants to get a photo with you and Hinata in them, so he can display it. He asked if you would leave your autographs, too.”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine.” Tomorrow is going to be a long day. Shion doesn’t know if he’s ready. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He spends the rest of the drive staring out the window, putting his earphones in so he can listen to the final draft of his short program music on loop. When he closes his eyes, he can see Adriah on center ice, as he extends his arms out to map out the first few seconds of the program. After a few times of reviewing the choreography in his mind, he scrolls through his contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button below Adriah’s name.

Adriah had said to call him if he missed him. Shion isn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, or if he misses Adriah. What is that supposed to feel like, if he does? Would it involve him wondering what Adriah was doing, when all the groomsmen are going over the order they’re walking down the aisle, and which bridesmaid they will be paired with? When Meian furtively sheds tears during Shion’s delivery of the speech he’d written for the reception? When his father asks how life in Colorado Springs is, and Shion wants to tell him about Boston instead?

It couldn’t possibly involve those things. These are just things that Shion thinks about unconsciously. There is no deeper meaning. There can’t be.

At this time, Adriah must be on his daily morning run in Boston Common. He’ll probably stop for a churro before heading back to his apartment to wash up. He’ll put on his glasses while he’s drinking his first mug of coffee or tea, whichever he was feeling that particular moment. He’ll be busy. Calling now would only disrupt his day.

Shion puts his phone face down on his leg. He closes his eyes again and listens to the notes of Experience ending another loop, and thinks about Adriah holding one arm out, while clutching the other to his chest. The position they had chosen to conclude the routine on, Adriah’s fingers enclosing Shion’s fist as he’d shown Shion how to hold himself. Steady and true, like he wouldn’t ever let go.

#

Miya is still at his table even after the mingling begins, so Shion excuses himself from the conversation he’s in and makes his way over to him. He stops by the bar to pick up two more glasses of wine, offering one to Miya as he sits down next to him.

“How kind of you,” Miya says, as he accepts. He smiles at Shion, leaning forward to balance his weight on an elbow. “That was a nice speech you gave up there. I even teared up.”

Shion takes a sip from his glass. There had been very few dry eyes during Shion’s speech about how grateful he was to Hibarida, and how happy he is to be a part of the beginning of a new chapter in his life. “You’re not the only one.”

“I see you’re bad at both giving and accepting compliments as always,” Miya says. “I assume you’re here to talk about work, even though we’re at a wedding?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to talk about work right now?”

“Not at all.” Miya leans down to get his tablet from the bag he’s hidden under the table. “Your exhibition costume is finished. I emailed the final design to you this morning, but you probably haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”

Shion had glanced at it while he was getting his hair done, right before the ceremony. “Not yet.”

“It should be ready for you when you come back to Japan for The Ice,” Miya says. “The second week of July, right?”

“Yeah, my flight gets in on that Sunday,” Shion says. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Miya says. “Anything for my paying customers.”

“You’re lucky you have talent,” Shion tells him. “Enough talent that everyone is willing to look past your less-than-desirable character.”

“Another terrible compliment! I appreciate that very much.” Miya smiles again, which makes Shion want to flick him. “I’ve been working on your short program costume. A white and green ombre shirt would look nice. I’ll smooth out the details before sending you a draft.”

“Something simple,” Shion agrees. “No sequins.”

“You requested those gold sequins that year, I told you not to do it and you still insisted,” Miya reminds him. “I can’t take responsibility for something I was coerced into creating.”

“Yeah, that one’s on me,” Shion says. “If I blamed you for that, we wouldn’t still be doing business.”

“What a relief,” Miya says. “I spent many sleepless nights wondering if that costume was going to end my career.”

“Does it taste sweet in your mouth when you lie?” Shion asks. “I can’t think of another reason you would tell so many otherwise.”

Miya laughs, holding his glass up so Shion will tap it. “To another year of designing your costumes. May there be many more.”

Their glasses clink. “There will be.” Shion takes a sip, putting it down on the table afterwards. “I’m nowhere near retirement.”

“I believe you,” Miya says. His eyes flick over towards where Hinata is talking to Bokuto and a few other members of his curling team. “This is a big crowd that Hibarida-san has invited.”

“Well, he knows a lot of people,” Shion says. “It’s beautiful, by the way. The decorations. I heard that you helped with those.”

“So that’s what a true compliment from the Wonder Boy himself sounds like? I never knew.”

“You’re so bad at receiving praise,” Shion says. “It’s a wonder people still hire you.”

“You hired me.”

“I hired you first,” Shion says. “Remember? When you were still in school? Before I could see your ego in Osaka all the way from Colorado Springs, because it’s that big?”

“Ah, to be discovered again.” Miya’s glass is empty now, and Shion’s is almost there. “I consider myself as humble and pure as I was when I received my first job as a designer.”

“I wonder what it is about you that makes you the least believable person I’ve ever heard speak,” Shion says. “Is it your voice? Your face? Your smile which gives the impression that you know something you shouldn’t? We may never know.”

“It’s true, we may never know,” Miya says. He pulls his chair back, getting up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m getting a refill. And someone over at that table seems to be looking for you.”

Shion follows where Miya is gesturing towards, to see Samson waving at him. Miya puts a hand up as he leaves, and Shion leaves his empty glass at the table before he joins his coach.

“When did you get in?” Shion asks. “I would’ve picked you up at the airport.”

“Shuugo sent a driver so there was no need, and I don’t want to be trampled by your fans anyway,” Samson says. He has another flute of champagne that he offers Shion. Shion accepts, but he knows he should probably start pacing himself before it’s too late. “I know you’ve mentioned that it’s going well with Adriah Tomas, but I was wondering if you could tell me more about him.”

Shion slowly takes a sip, as he’s thinking about what to say. “He’s definitely a bit eccentric,” he starts. “But not necessarily in a bad way. I think he has his own way of doing things, and he seems to tailor his approach to each program depending on the skater. It seems like he’s dealt with me differently than he did with Shouyou a few years ago. Individuality is very important to him from what I can tell.”

“He was a fantastic budding competitor himself before that terrible injury,” Samson says. “I remember hearing about his early retirement. He was coached by one of my old training mates, when it happened. It was such a shame.”

Shion recalls the tightness in Adriah’s shoulders when Shion had asked about what had happened, and the way his jaw set before admitting that what he was doing now made him the happiest. Now, he wonders if Adriah had ever told anyone that before. “I don’t think he’s lost his touch at all.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“You’ll know when you see the programs,” Shion says. He’d thought about sending Samson the shaky videos, but decided that he wanted to show him in person instead.

“That’s high praise from you,” Samson says. “Now my expectations are inflated.”

“That’s okay,” Shion says. “I think the programs are so good that they’ll still surpass whatever bar you set.”

“You must have a lot of trust in him to say something like that.” Samson leans back in his chair so he can look at Shion. “Shuugo and I were very worried that you wouldn’t adapt to working with a different choreographer.”

Shion sighs. “You too? Shouldn’t you, of all people, know that I’m very professional when it comes to my career?”

“Of course I know that,” Samson says. “I’m the one who has coached you all these years, aren’t I? I know you very well, Shion. Enough to know that you don’t always adapt to new circumstances quickly, but you’re considerate enough to be discrete about it until you adjust. That’s why I almost didn’t accept Shouyou as my student, even though you said it was okay.”

“You almost didn’t take Shouyou?” Shion hadn’t known about this before. “But you were a perfect fit for him. His jumps were all there, but he needed a coach like you who could teach him how to express himself while skating. He didn’t know how to connect everything together until you taught him.”

“I’m aware,” Samson says. “But you were my first priority. You had just won an Olympic title, and I didn’t want to give the impression that I was moving on from you as my student. Of course I wanted to make sure it was acceptable to you that I may be taking on another student in the same discipline as you.”

Shion thinks he’s smiling, as he’s listening to Samson. “Did I ever tell you that I started skating after watching you win the silver medal?”

“You did not,” Samson says. “Although I always wondered, because you’ve brought up Nagano before.”

“I still remember your free program,” Shion says. “Rhapsody in Blue. I rewatch it every once in a while, to remind myself what inspired me in the first place.”

“That would make a great program for you, I think,” Samson says. “Let your coach give you suggestions for once, won’t you?”

“That’s your job as my coach,” Shion says. “Did you not know that?”

Samson takes a sip of champagne. “It seems that I have been learning from you, the entire time you were supposed to be learning from me.”

If Shion thinks about it long enough, he can remember what it felt like to sit in between his parents in the White Ring, as Samson completed the final revolutions of his ending spin. Even from that distance, he could see the expression Samson had on his face once he stood to face the crowd. He had already figured that the gold wouldn’t be his. Shion had been too young to understand then, but he appreciates now what that may have felt like.

“That’s something I’d want to skate to on Olympic ice,” Shion says.

“What is?”

“Rhapsody in Blue. Atsumu could recreate something that’s inspired by your costume, I’m sure.” Shion smiles into his glass. “With a personalized twist, like he always does.”

“Would you let me choreograph that, if nothing else?” Samson asks.

Shion deliberates for a surprisingly short amount of time before he says, “We could choreograph it together.”

“It would be my honor to create that program with you.”

“I should let Shuugo know how far in advance we’re planning,” Shion says. “You know how he is.”

“I think he’s very good for you, actually,” Samson says. “And you’re very good for him. You both seem to have a hard time disclosing that to each other.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Shion suddenly remembers what he had told Meian a few days ago. “I almost forgot. You mentioned that my on-ice hours would be changing soon?”

“Yes, because of the staffing changes,” Samson says. “But the total amount of time you get is the same. I apologize, I meant to send the new schedule to Shuugo, but it completely slipped my mind. I’ll do that tonight.”

“Thank you,” Shion says. “Who’s the new coach?”

Samson looks at him strangely. “What do you mean?”

“You said that Broadmoor hired a new beginner’s coach, didn’t you? Who is it?”

“You don’t know?” Samson asks, tilting his head. “That’s why I was asking you about Adriah Tomas. He’s the one Broadmoor hired a few months ago to start at the end of this month. He didn’t tell you?”

Shion drops his champagne flute.

Luckily, his hand had been over the table and it had been mostly empty, so the mess is minimal. No one around them even notices, because it doesn’t make too much of a noise. He’s staring at Samson with his mouth slightly open, he knows, but that doesn’t mean he makes himself stop.

“What did you say?”

“Adriah didn’t mention it to you? That’s strange.” Samson looks about half as confused as Shion feels right now. “When I spoke to him about being your choreographer for next season’s programs, he said that he would see me soon. I can’t imagine why he didn’t tell you.”

Shion’s hands are shaking as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the contacts and opening Adriah’s. He should call and ask. That would be the normal thing to do, wouldn’t it? That would be the path of least resistance. There must be a reason Adriah would hide something like that from him. It doesn’t make any sense. He had probably meant to tell Shion and just never found the right time to do so. He deserves the benefit of doubt.

It wouldn’t change anything even if Adriah was at Colorado Springs instead of Boston. He’s still someone Shion wants to maintain a professional relationship with, and to create programs with. There isn’t any reason Shion should feel any differently about Adriah no matter where he is.

Samson changes the subject to what the Grand Prix circuit will look like in a few months, and they discuss that until the dancing begins. Hinata comes then to drag Shion onto the floor, and on their way Shion sees Kunimi talking to Kageyama and some other volleyball players, Meian with the curlers, and the speed skaters the next group over.

“Wan-san, is there something wrong?” Hinata asks.

Shion realizes he’s stopped in his tracks, looking at nothing in particular. “No, nothing.” He runs a hand through his hair, knowing that he’s messing it up. “Come on, let’s go.”

He’d probably been looking for Adriah, who is undeniably not here in Tokyo but across the world instead. He shouldn’t be looking for people who aren’t here, and he shouldn’t be looking for Adriah either way.

Later, after he’s turned in for the night, he pulls up Adriah’s contact information again, staring at the screen until he feels his lids growing heavier and heavier until nothing could stop them from closing.

He puts his phone on the bedside table. He doesn’t call.

#

Shion doesn’t know if he’s surprised or relieved to see that Adriah brings the original sign he made for Shion, the second time he picks Shion up from the airport.

“Welcome back!” Adriah puts his hand out for something, and Shion doesn’t know what to give him so he gives him the handle of his carry-on. “How was your flight?”

“Very long,” Shion says. He hadn’t slept very much despite staying awake for the twenty hours that preceded the departing flight from Haneda. He’d been so anxious about what he would say to Adriah once they were face to face again, now that Shion knows about his new job. “But you probably figured that part out.”

“You look really tired,” Adriah says. He’s peering at Shion’s face, concern evident in his expression. “Have you not been sleeping well?”

“It’s the jet lag,” Shion says, which is partially the truth. “I take a few days to adjust to it. It’s nothing serious.”

“How was visiting home?”

“Fun, but exhausting. I only got to see my parents once.” Shion rolls his neck to work out the kinks after sitting for so long. “I’m holding fanmeets around the country before preparations begin for The Ice, so I’ll only be able to go see them again for a short while.”

“Wow, it must be so hard being popular,” Adriah says. “Holding fan meetings with hundreds of people who love and support you sounds awful.”

Shion bursts out laughing, almost tripping over a curb. He hasn’t talked to Adriah in a full week. He can admit to himself that he’s missed that, at least. “You’re welcome to come, you know. I’m sure we’d be able to get you a backstage pass as well. I’ll even shake your hand.”

“Are you trying to get me even more excited about visiting Japan?”

“Is it working?”

Adriah opens the trunk of his car, fitting Shion’s bag inside. He closes and leans against it. “It is. I hope you don’t go back on your word.”

“Have I ever done that, the entire time we’ve known each other? It hurts my feelings that you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you,” Adriah assures him. “Although Shuugo seems much more uptight than you are.”

“He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Shion says, buckling his seatbelt. Adriah starts the engine. “He’s on vacation now so hopefully he’ll be more relaxed once he’s back.”

“Is he going anywhere?”

“I think most of the first week he’s planning on catching up on sleep, because the wedding was pretty rough for him. Then he’s going to Greece with a group of his friends,” Shion says. “Although I think if it were up to him he might have opted to do absolutely nothing for the entire time so he could fully recharge.”

“Greece sounds beautiful,” Adriah says. “That’s where my parents went on their honeymoon.”

“I don’t think Shuugo is going on a honeymoon anytime soon.” They’re in traffic, so Shion rolls down the window to let the breeze in. “I’m trying to convince him to let me perform the ceremony on the off chance that he does get married.”

“That would be very cute,” Adriah says. “I would cry.”

“You seem like you cry very easily, though. I’m not sure if that would be an accomplishment.”

Adriah rolls down his window as well. “I probably don’t cry as easily as you.”

“You’re talking to someone who didn’t even cry when he won the Olympic gold medal,” Shion says. “Don’t believe everything Shuugo tells you.”

The traffic slowly eases up, so they’re able to make their way along the bridge. Shion yawns, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

“You can take a nap if you’re tired,” Adriah says. He’s looking ahead at the road. “I can wake you up.”

“If you don’t mind.” Shion doesn’t actually mean to fall asleep, but he must have. He vaguely recollects being jostled around, but the next time he actually opens his eyes he’s in a bed. Which doesn’t make sense, because he fell asleep in a car. This is definitely a bed, with a pillow and a comforter and sheets. He’s never seen this room before, which is an alarming thing to realize right after waking up. He rolls over to see that his phone is easily spottable, on the pillow next to him that he’s not currently using. When he checks the time, he sees that it’s near six in the morning.

His flight had gotten in around four in the afternoon. Which means he must have been asleep for over twelve hours. This must be Adriah’s room. Upon closer inspection, there are characteristic framed pictures of his dogs strategically placed, as well as a potted houseplant that is showing all the signs of wilt.

So this is definitely Adriah’s bedroom.

He must look terrible after such a long flight and a long time asleep. His carry-on is next to the door, so he digs out his toiletries and a towel, and makes his way to the bathroom as quietly as he can.

A shower makes him feel like himself again. He thinks he hears Adriah moving around as he’s changing back in the room. When he finishes toweling his hair dry and somewhat styling it the way it’s meant to be, he goes out to the communal spaces.

Adriah is already there, shaking his damp bangs out of his eyes as he’s putting the kettle on.

“Good morning, Shion! I hope you feel well rested now.”

“Good morning. I don’t think I’ve ever slept that long before,” Shion says, taking a seat at the table. “I’m not completely sure I’m awake yet.”

“I can pinch you,” Adriah suggests. “But that would hurt.”

“My head already hurts,” Shion winces. “I must be dehydrated.” Adriah pours him a glass of water, which Shion gets up to drink. He drinks it way too fast, but he imagines that his headache feels better already. “Did you have to carry me up here?”

“Well, I had to. You didn’t want to wake up,” Adriah says. “I thought you were going to but then you almost fell face first on the sidewalk, and I didn’t want to risk damaging your best attribute.”

“While I’m very grateful that you brought me inside, I’m very offended that you think that my face is my best attribute,” Shion says. “I’m a figure skater. My legs are my life.”

“I didn’t say that your legs weren’t an attribute,” Adriah says. “Just in your endorsements, a lot of them are closeups on your face. I couldn’t possibly be held responsible for taking that away from the world. People would hate me!”

“I wouldn’t hate you,” Shion says, without thinking.

Immediately after the words fall from his lips, he realizes what he’s done. He doesn’t physically react, and Adriah doesn’t either. He’s turned away from Shion, so he has no way of knowing what expression Adriah could possibly be wearing right now.

“I’m so happy to hear that,” Adriah says simply, carefully pouring hot water into two mugs. “I would be very sad if you hated me. That might be because of my desire to be liked by everyone, though.”

That’s a better explanation than any Shion could have come up with. “Have you ever met someone who just didn’t like you?” Shion couldn’t fathom feeling such a way.

“Of course I have,” Adriah says. “I’m still a person. Once I got yelled at in the grocery store because I wanted the last box of ice cream sandwiches. I tried to give it to them instead and they refused and walked away. So I bought the ice cream sandwiches. They were delicious.”

How does Adriah have such weird stories for every time anything comes up? Shion must not get out much in comparison. “How’s the free skate coming along?”

Adriah lights up. “I thought you’d never ask. I have the outline of the choreography down, so I’ll be able to teach it to you tomorrow.” He offers a mug to Shion, careful not to spill. “Now that I’ve seen how you wanted the short program to be, I had an easier time editing and transitioning between elements. So I don’t expect finalizing this program to take long at all.”

Shion picks up the mug of tea Adriah had slid over to him. It’s hot, so he holds it gingerly. He blows on the surface lightly. “I’m excited to see it.”

“I am too.” Adriah meets his eyes from across the kitchen, and smiles. “I hope that it’s to your liking.”

He drinks the tea before it has sufficiently cooled enough. It’s his fault that he gives himself small burns inside his mouth and the surface of his tongue. It’ll heal quickly, but right now Shion settles for pressing his tongue to his hard palate, so he can make sure that the burn is still there.

They’ll be gone by the time Shion is leaving Boston again. One week isn’t a long time at all. As he’s standing in Adriah’s kitchen with a hot mug in his hands, Shion wants to want something different, because he knows the more he doesn’t want it to end, the faster it will go.

#

Shion wonders if he’s ever going to get used to the way Adriah moves on the ice, as Adriah is showing him the choreography he’d prepared to Valse Sentimentale. The door to the rink is open, and Shion kneels down to press his fingers against the ice. The zamboni had just been run, so it’s clean and slick, the outline of Shion’s reflection hazily visible on its surface.

Each turn of Adriah’s blades etches a new cut upon the ice. He has such great control over them that there are barely other sounds echoed in the arena other than the music. When Shion joins him near the center, he looks down to see each groove underfoot, and thinks he can envision which step of the program had been brought to life.

“I think the choreo sequence before your last two jumps can be made a little longer,” Adriah is saying. “I didn’t take into account that you’d be further at the end of the rink before you started it, because the jump before is a combination.” Shion can’t tear his eyes away from the spiraled scratch off to the side of them, where Adriah had included a camel spin. “Shion? Are you listening?”

“I’m listening,” Shion says, still fixated on the scratch marks. “That sounds good to me.”

“It’s because you have such great ice coverage when you jump,” Adriah says. “I’ve never worked with anyone who travels that great of a distance, so this is new for me.”

“Are you trying to flatter me right now?”

“No, Shion. I just think you’re amazing.”

Shion had taken off his left glove earlier to touch the ice, so he digs through his jacket pocket to retrieve it now. As he’s fitting his hand back into it, he says, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I already said it wasn’t flattery.” Adriah circles around, so they’re facing each other. His expression is impossible to decipher. This is either happening more often, or Shion is getting worse at reading him. “Is something wrong?”

“Why are there boxes in your living room?” Shion asks.

“Boxes?”

“Yeah,” Shion says. “There are boxes in your living room.” He’d finally won an argument against Adriah last night, and convinced him that Shion should take the couch. He’d noticed as he was shining his phone flashlight on the room after turning the overhead light out, that there was a stack of cardboard boxes on the opposite wall, propped up next to the bookshelf.

“Oh!” Adriah seems to recognize what Shion is saying. “That’s because I’m moving. Didn’t I tell you that I’m leaving Boston?”

“No,” Shion says. “You did not tell me that.”

“My bad,” Adriah says. “But I am. Next week, actually.”

“Where are you going to be based out of next?”

Adriah puts a hand over where his heart would be. “Could it be that Wonder Boy Shion loves my choreography so much that you will come back to me next year for more?”

“Oh, my god.”

“Am I right?” Adriah laughs.

“You’re projecting,” Shion says. “I hope you know the difference between what goes on in your head and what is actually happening here.”

“Hmm.” Adriah takes his gloves off, skating to the edge of the rink to put them on the boards. “Let’s go over the beginning again.”

His hands are gentle as they arrange Shion’s limbs, coaxing him to relax his shoulder so it’ll drop to where it needs to be.

“You’re really tense,” Adriah says, after they’ve run through the whole thing a few more times. “Did you not sleep well?”

“I’m still jet lagged,” Shion reminds him. He’d still slept like a rock last night, and he tells Adriah that.

“Maybe we should go on a longer run in the morning,” Adriah suggests. “That’ll get you to loosen up before we get to the rink.”

“You sound like Oliver, who I only miss a little bit,” Shion says.

“So you’re saying you miss me more than a little bit?”

“How could I possibly miss you Adriah? You’re right here.”

He’s matching Adriah’s tone, but Adriah suddenly stops, turning around from where he’s skated to so Shion can only see the side of his face. His eyes are downcast, so much so that Shion can’t follow his line of sight. They’ve marked up the ice plenty now, and Shion can’t distinguish which are his and which are Adriah’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Adriah asks.

“Of course.”

“Why is it that there’s no mention of you and Hitoka on any news site or on social media?”

“Because I’m entitled to privacy even if I’m a public figure,” Shion says. “And it’s not like we were planning on getting married, or it was particularly serious. That was the first time I’ve ever dated anyone.”

“That was a rude thing to ask, I apologize.”

“It wasn’t rude at all, Adriah. Don’t worry about it.”

Adriah comes towards him until he’s about an arm’s length away. “I can never figure out what you’re thinking, Shion.”

What a terribly unfair thing to say. Shion is the one who can’t figure out Adriah, whether he’s consciously trying or not. “Why do you want to know what I’m thinking?”

“You shouldn’t think so much about it,” Adriah says. “It’s not hard.”

Shion swallows. Adriah may say it’s not hard but Shion thinks it is. It’s much easier to pretend that he could be talking about anything. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Adriah smiles. It’s not the smile that he’s shown Shion before, or the smile that Shion imagines when he’s not looking at him. He doesn’t know what this smile is, but he’s pretty sure he never wants to see it on Adriah’s face ever again. “If you don’t know, then I must be out of line.”

Shion unzips his jacket, so he’ll have an excuse to skate away. His phone is on the boards, so he picks it up. He opens the camera app. “Take a picture with me, Adriah.”

“With you? Why?”

“Because I want to post on Instagram who choreographed for me,” Shion says. “As long as you’re okay with me divulging that information.”

They take a few, with Shion holding his hand out to make it seem like he’s supporting Adriah’s chin, because Adriah is further away from the camera. Adriah seems to like them, so Shion texts him the pictures.

As he’s doing so, he sees the photos they took yesterday, the day after Shion flew in. He’d been so tired despite sleeping so much, and Adriah took him to go whale watching off of Boston Harbor. Shion has never been whale watching, so he spent the entire trip out furiously trying to look up what to expect. Adriah had told him to not have too high of expectations, but they were lucky. The whales were in a curious mood. Adriah even managed to get a picture of Shion with a whale visible in the background.

He’ll have to include that in his post. There are other photos that he’s been saving of his time in Boston that he wants to add.

“Adriah, can I follow you on my private account?” he asks, as Adriah is looking at the photos Shion sent him. Shion’s autograph peeks through his fingers.

“Your private account?”

“Yeah, I have another Instagram,” Shion says.

“Have I passed the test?” Adriah asks. “Is this your way of telling me I am one of the select few to see into Shion’s personal life?”

“It’s literally just pictures that are deemed to be too casual for my public account,” Shion says. “Mostly of Shouyou and Shuugo, because they’re all I talk to.”

That would probably change, once Adriah moved to Colorado Springs. Shion wants to ask, but he thinks that Adriah must have some reason why he hasn’t said anything yet. He’d even acknowledged that he was moving, and in the end hadn’t divulged his destination. That doesn’t sound like something Shion wants to pry into just yet.

“This is so cute,” Adriah says, after Shion accepts his follow request. He shows Shion what he’s looking at: it’s a picture of him and Hinata when Hinata was eight and Shion was twelve. A chance encounter from before they officially met years later. They’re standing next to each other in costumes and skates, and it is as awkward as it is endearing. Shion’s mother had sent it to him randomly one day, and he couldn’t help but share it. “Are you ever going to post that publicly?”

“Maybe on his birthday this year with another picture,” Shion says. “It’s this month, and I’ve been trying to think of something good to post. Shouyou always has pictures he saves to post, but I’m not as organized as he is.”

“That picture of the two of you at the wedding was a good one.”

Shion had posted a few shots from Hibarida’s wedding the morning after the event. “Yeah, maybe I should have saved that.”

Adriah takes a few pictures of Shion running through the choreography, as well as a video for them to review. It’s not as shaky as it was last time, but Shion still smiles when he thinks about it. When he looks over, he sees that Adriah doesn’t notice. He’s concentrating on the on-screen Shion, and it’s not a radical notion for Shion to think about how he would react if Adriah ever looked at the real him like that.

It’s easy to pretend to not know what Adriah had been talking about earlier. Accepting it, however, is a different story.

#

“Cheers,” Adriah says, “to two completed programs!” He clinks his bottle against Shion’s, meeting his eyes as he tips the alcohol into his mouth. It’s too tart for Shion’s taste, but he finds that it’s easier to swallow once he looks away.

“Thank you,” Shion says. “For everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” Adriah says. He’s definitely going to outdrink Shion. They’re on their first drink and Shion already knows this.

He’d posted to Instagram last night, taking up the full 10 photo limit in an attempt to condense his entire time in Boston into mere snapshots. Shion and Adriah on the rink. Shion and Adriah on the rink, selfie version. Adriah on the ice, bending down to pick up Shion’s fallen glove for him. Shion and the whales. Shion and the cannolis Adriah had in the refrigerator the day after Shion flew in for the second time. Shion drinking lemonade after a morning run, a candid. Shion in the airport in Denver, sitting on his carry-on while Meian took a picture. Shion at the front of the Skating Club of Boston. Shion sitting on the boards surrounding the rink, a fake candid. Shion facing the Boston skyline from when they went to the Skywalk Observatory.

There were more that he wanted to include, but hadn’t had the space to. He’d settled for posting some less-flattering shots on his private account, tagging Adriah anyway. Among many, this included the shot he’d managed on one of the mornings that they’d gone for a run, and an enormous malamute had jumped up on Adriah and knocked him to the ground.

It’s a good picture. Shion just didn’t think he could get away with posting it publicly.

Adriah had posted too, but he’d only included three or so photos, all with Shion in them. One of them is a shot he’d gotten when Shion was running through his short program choreography. It’s surprisingly in focus, and the expression Shion is wearing is akin to one he would have on his face during a competition.

 _Being both a tour guide and a choreographer is a challenge, but it’s such an honor to work with one of the greats!_ , he’d captioned, and Shion had briefly wondered who Adriah was talking about, until he realized Adriah was talking about him. He’d been talking about Shion.

“You’re so popular, Shion,” Adriah had said earlier. Shion’s four million followers must have blown his phone up before he’d had a chance to turn off notifications.

“You don’t seem like you have a lot of friends,” Adriah says now.

“This again?” Shion laughs, downing what’s left in his bottle. “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“I meant that you don’t seem to be friends with a lot of other skaters,” Adriah amends. “You only ever post photos with Shouyou and other Team Japan athletes.”

“I don’t get out much,” Shion says. “I’m 27 this year and I’ve dated one person in all of those years. Did you think I was some kind of social butterfly?”

“I don’t think you’re a social butterfly,” Adriah says. “But I also didn’t realize you were introverted, so what do I know?”

Shion opens another bottle of soju. Green grape flavor. Adriah has good taste. “I’m probably closest to Shouyou and Kiyoomi, of all the athletes I know. MSBY Sports signs on a lot of winter sports athletes so I know a few that way as well.”

“Who’s Kiyoomi?”

“Kinoshita Group Tokyo curling team’s third. They won bronze at Pyeongchang.”

“You haven’t mentioned him even once the past month,” Adriah says. “And he’s one of the people you’re closest to?”

“Athletes,” Shion corrects. “And yeah, we tend to work out at the same times in the morning, so we run into each other whenever we’re at the same facility. He’s partial to the elliptical too, but he said something about running too long being hard on his knees.”

“Isn’t that why you’re partial to the elliptical?”

“When I’m doing cardio for an extended period of time, yes,” Shion says. “You know. If I ever messed up my knees that would effectively end my career. I actually like running though, so I still do it in moderation.”

“I also like running,” Adriah says. “But you probably already figured that out by how often I do it.”

“It reminds me how difficult dry land is,” Shion says. “I feel like ever since I learned how to skate, nothing else has felt more natural than being on the ice.”

“Can I ask you something, Shion?”

He always precedes his questions with that, so Shion has mirrored it back to him. “Does it even matter if I say no?”

“Of course it does,” Adriah says. “If you said no then I wouldn’t ask.”

Shion looks at him for a few heartbeats before bringing his bottle back up to his lips. He swallows. “You can ask me anything.”

“What is your favorite memory of me?”

His favorite memory? Shion does not want to think about Adriah when he’s drinking. He does not want to think about the Boston Common or Seaport District. He does not want to think about yoga mats or the Charles River or the Lawn on D. He does not want to think about Logan International Airport or running shoes. He wants to look at a houseplant and the Sumner Tunnel and green skate guards and the Atlantic Ocean and think about something other than Adriah fucking Tomas.

“I’ve known you for almost a month, Adriah. Do you really think there’s been something that I can think of as one of my favorite memories?”

“That’s fair,” Adriah says. “Then can you ask me what my favorite memory is of you?”

“Fine. What’s your favorite memory of me?”

Adriah’s opening another bottle. It’s not green like soju. Shion can’t see what it is. “My favorite memory of you is the first time we met.”

“At the airport?”

“No, Shion.” Adriah’s mouth is wet after he swallows. Shion cannot look away. “At the 2007 World Junior Championships.”

“We didn’t meet at the 2007 World Junior Championships,” Shion says.

“We did,” Adriah says. “You just don’t remember me.”

“And you remember me?”

“You were in the last practice group of men’s singles before pairs began, the day before the event started,” Adriah says. “Even then, you were wearing all black. You fell on your triple axel during practice at least twice.”

“You can’t possibly remember all of this,” Shion says. “That was 12 years ago.”

“I was sixteen,” Adriah says. “That’s old enough to remember.”

“I don’t believe you.” Shion doesn’t notice how his hands are shaking as he’s taking another drink. The condensation on the bottle makes it hard for him to grip it harder. “We didn’t meet back then.”

“After the banquet,” Adriah continues as if Shion hadn't just spoken, “some of the skaters were hanging out, and almost all the medalists were there. I won bronze that year, do you remember that?”

Shion doesn’t remember any of this. How can he not remember any of this?

“You weren’t there,” Adriah says. “So someone said, One of us should go ask Shion Inunaki to join us.”

“I didn’t go to any get-together after the banquet.”

“I know you didn’t,” Adriah says. “Because I went to your room and knocked on your door, and you answered. I asked you if you wanted to join us, and you said no. Then you told me, good night, and closed the door.”

Shion vaguely remembers someone asking him to come join something, but he’d been so tired and stressed. That was around the time he’d been coachless for a few months, and ended up having to go to the World Junior Championships coachless. By some miracle he had been able to hold himself together long enough to snatch the win. He’d officially joined Samson’s team not two weeks later. “That was you?”

“So you do remember?”

Shion frowns at the table. He doesn’t remember as much as he should. “Are you trying to get me to apologize for my behavior? I was like fifteen.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” He looks down again to see that his hands are curled into fists. What is he even angry about? There’s nothing malicious about the way Adriah is looking at him.

“Because,” Adriah says. “I had a huge crush on you.”

Shion inhales sharply, which is probably the wrong thing to do. It’s not possible that Adriah knows what Shion thinks about when they’re together. Adriah is not a mind reader. He is not some omniscient, psychic being who has been sent to ruin Shion’s life. He is a normal human male with no magical powers, who has been sent to ruin Shion’s life.

“Do you hate me now, Shion?” Adriah has already had at least two more drinks than Shion. For some reason his pupils are dilated, noticeable even from across the table.

No, Shion doesn’t hate him. Shion does the opposite of hating him, and that’s something for which no words exist. It’s too bright in here. There’s too much light and Adriah already hurts to look at directly.

“No,” Shion manages. “No, that’s not— I’m not—”

He breaks off, tipping whatever’s left in his bottle so that when he inevitably drops it, it won’t make a mess on Adriah’s rug.

“Are you okay?”

Shion is not okay. Shion is most decidedly not okay and the room is spinning and his head hurts and now he has officially had enough to drink that he can blame whatever he might do on the alcohol. He finds himself standing, even though he has no recollection of getting up. Then he collapses on his knees next to Adriah, and presses his face into the curve of Adriah’s neck and feels how solid and real he is in Shion’s arms. He still smells like the Shion-endorsed cologne.

He doesn’t know if Adriah is hugging him back or not. He could be, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Shion thinks about being thirteen and skating at SC Karuizawa and watching the senior level group practicing while warming up and looking at a boy whose name he’s long forgotten land a triple lutz and wondering if it was normal to feel the same way about him as he did about the girls sharing the rink, except more.

It was supposed to be admiration. Shion was sure it wasn’t. He was thirteen but he knew better than that.

He’s never told anyone this. Not Hitoka. Not Hinata, not his parents, not Meian, not Samson. Not Kiyoomi, even after Shion saw him kissing his team’s lead in the locker rooms, which Shion hadn’t told anyone about either. Kiyoomi doesn’t know that Shion knows.

Bokuto has no idea that two of his team members probably make out on a regular basis. Shion’s pretty confident Bokuto wouldn’t care, but it’s not his place to say anything.

“If we played truth or dare,” Adriah says, his voice very close to Shion’s ear, “I would’ve dared you to hug me.”

“You didn’t have to,” Shion says. He shivers when Adriah exhales. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to play anyway?”

“If you want to.”

“Okay,” Adriah says. “I dare you to let go.”

Shion jerks back so quickly he almost flips the coffee table. Adriah’s shirt is wrinkled where Shion had pressed against him, and his arms are still around Shion.

His arms are still around Shion. Their faces are incredibly close, and Shion gapes at him for an unspecified amount of time before he can gather himself enough to repeat, “I dare you to let me go.”

Adriah does, his hands resting on the outer curve of Shion’s shoulders before he gets up to take the other side of the table, where Shion had been sitting before.

“My turn next?” Adriah opens another bottle. Shion feels sick watching him do that. “I dare you to tell me something that I don’t know about you.”

 _I know you’re coming to Broadmoor_ , dances at the tip of Shion’s tongue, but he swallows it back another time. “I prefer men,” he says instead.

“You waited until you were drunk to come out to me?” Adriah asks. “That seems kind of cowardly.”

“You did the same thing,” Shion points out.

“Ah,” Adriah smiles. “The difference is that I’m actually a coward. You’re not.”

“How could you possibly know that, Adriah?” The grapefruit soju he’d picked isn’t treating him well. “Even if you’ve been in love with me since 2007, you can’t know something like that.”

“I haven’t been in love with you since 2007,” Adriah says. He’s not wearing a jacket, but he absentmindedly pats around his chest like he’s looking for something. “Force of habit,” he offers, when he notices Shion looking at him. “I quit years ago.”

“I’ve heard that it takes 21 days to break a habit,” Shion says. “Which just sounds like bullshit to me.”

“I agree,” Adriah says. “It took me much longer than 21 days.”

“I’m— I’m not talking about that.” Shion presses his palms to his eyes, to block out some of the light from overhead. “I’m talking about—” _You_. He’d spent seven days in Japan talking himself out of calling Adriah because he didn’t miss him. Except he did miss him. He’d missed Adriah so much that he hadn’t slept during the nineteen hour travel time between Tokyo and Boston. He could spend seven or twenty one or no days at all not talking to Adriah and still miss him.

 _I’m talking about you_. Shion is so nauseous. He should go throw up. That would taste better than having to admit out loud that he’s the naïve one here, and Samson was right about Shion actually being terrible with change.

He’s on his feet now. “I don’t feel like playing anymore,” he says quietly. Adriah doesn’t reply, or make any motion to stop him as Shion goes into the bathroom. He turns on the shower, even though he’s already taken one earlier that night, and strips his clothes.

#

Shion chugs three glasses of water before falling face first into the couch, so the hangover he has when he wakes up ranks a seven out of a scale from one to ten.

Adriah rates his a two, because he’s a monster.

“I hate everything,” Shion groans, his forehead against the kitchen table as Adriah puts a plate of raw toast in front of him. Which is just bread. Two pieces of bread on a white ceramic plate. “I’m never drinking soju again.”

“Many before you have uttered those same words, and many before you have failed.” Adriah puts coffee down next to the plate. “You’ll be fine in about an hour if you take some painkillers.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shion says. “You’re not the one who has to get on a plane for six hours later today.”

“I really hope you’re not still hungover then,” Adriah says, even through his smile. “That would be pretty terrible for you.”

“Your concern has been noted,” Shion says. “It is acknowledged and appreciated.”

“I feel acknowledged and appreciated,” Adriah says. “Thank you for acknowledging my concern and appreciating me for it.”

Shion winces. His head throbs again. “Talking is hard.”

His bangs are falling into his eyes because his hair is so messed up. Adriah rearranges it clumsily to approximately where it’s supposed to go. “I forgot to tell you. I like your haircut.”

“Thank you,” Shion says. “It was weird that you didn’t say anything before.”

“Your hangover must not be too bad,” Adriah says. “You’re acting completely normally.”

Shion’s hangover is pretty bad. He eats half a piece of bread, takes painkillers, and falls asleep again until noon. He feels much better after that, enough to take another shower to fix his hair. Adriah’s hair dryer is in his room, so Shion gets dressed before going to go ask for it.

The door is open, so Shion knocks gently before sticking his head in. Adriah is perched at the edge of his partially made bed. It looks like he started to put the comforter back before he got distracted by something he’s watching on his phone.

“Can I borrow your hair dryer?” he asks, and Adriah puts his phone down.

“Of course.” It’s on top of his dresser, so Shion goes to retrieve it.

It’s only after he’s finished styling his hair in the bathroom that Shion realizes he should have taken advantage of Adriah’s truth or dare game to ask about why Adriah hasn’t told him about Broadmoor. Shion is leaving in four hours, and Adriah hasn’t told him about Broadmoor.

Shion is going back to Colorado Springs in four hours, and Adriah hasn’t told him that he will be joining him in a week.

“We have time to get lunch before your flight,” Adriah says, when Shion returns the dryer. He’s still watching something on his phone. “If you feel like you can stomach solid foods.”

“Your concern for my well-being is so touching,” Shion says. “I would love to get lunch with you.”

Adriah’s expression momentarily clouds before he hitches on a smile. “Luckily it’s Sunday.”

What he means is that on Sundays, the SoWa Open Market is happening. Shion packs, and they drive so they can head straight to the airport afterwards. It’s a crowded event, so Shion lets himself press close to Adriah as they weave in and out, their arms brushing intermittently.

Shion buys commemorative shirts for himself, as well as for Hinata, Meian, Samson, and Oliver. He gets his parents a snowglobe for when he sees them again. Adriah looks at the raw honey display for too long and Shion purchases him a sampler when he’s off admiring a dog that a vendor brought with them.

“For you,” Shion says, holding out the bag. “You’ll finally have something sweet in your life.”

“How rude! I’m exceedingly sweet.” Adriah looks excited as he examines the wooden basket with five small jars of honey nestled inside it. “Thank you, Shion. I can’t wait to try them all.”

Adriah wants to find Shion a gift too, but after they get something to eat, it’s time to head to the airport.

“Another time,” Adriah promises, as Shion is buckling his seatbelt.

 _Like when you’re in Colorado Springs?_ , Shion thinks, but settles for adjusting the belt strap on his shoulder. “Very optimistic of you to assume that I will want you to be my choreographer again.”

“It’s not me being optimistic,” Adriah says. “It’s me being sure.”

“Your ego is quite big, don’t you think?” Not as big as Miya’s, but still larger than the average.

“Maybe only with you, Shion.” Adriah hums as they’re making their way to the airport. The radio isn’t on, so Shion can only guess what the melody is. He can’t make out any of it, but it feels bittersweet anyway, as the road takes them underwater.

Shion wants to say something. The tunnel is dark, and while there’s no problem with visibility ahead, there is so much else that’s stopping Shion from doing what he should be doing.

Shion wants to talk to him. He wants to talk about things that don’t matter and things that matter a lot. Figure skating is not a contact sport, and Shion has been trained to avoid others who are sharing the ice with him since the moment his blade first touched the ice. He had never realized that he could share the rink with someone like he wanted to with Adriah. He wanted to share with Adriah on the ice, and off of it too.

These things have a learning curve associated with them. Three weeks together, and Shion doesn’t know how far along he’s traveled, and if it was anywhere near enough. Inunaki Shion is a lucky man, blessed with athleticism and grace and musicality and mental fortitude beyond comparison. He’d set his first world record on the junior level when he was thirteen and on the senior level when he was sixteen. He’s broken the current standing world record eighteen times, and most of them had been previously set by himself.

Inunaki Shion is an Olympic gold medalist, Olympic silver medalist, five-time world champion, eleven-time national champion, six-time Grand Prix Final champion, and four-time Four Continents Champion. He is the first and only men’s singles skater to achieve a career Super Slam. He has dedicated his entire life to figure skating up until this point, will continue to do so, and has the results to show for it. Since birth, he has had the body structure and muscles that provide him with a solid instrument with which to perform.

So it makes sense that he doesn’t know how to do much else. Meian calls him debilitatingly overspecialized as a joke, but Shion thinks it’s true. Why else would he have needed alcohol to tell Adriah the truth? He hadn’t even managed to get all of it out, and the remainders are still stuck to the insides of his mouth, on top of the faded burns.

“You’re being very quiet, Shion,” Adriah says. In the distance, Shion can see Logan Airport. He probably only has ten or so minutes before he’ll have to say goodbye. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m leaving,” Shion says, because he doesn’t trust himself to say anything else.

“You are leaving,” Adriah agrees. He adjusts his hands on the steering wheel, facing forward. “It seems that we do this so often, don’t you think?”

It would have probably been for the best if they had never done this, but Shion knows it’s too late for that. For better or for worse, Shion now has two beautiful programs that he’ll set as many world records with as he can, and not think about Adriah Tomas every second that his blades carve a path through the surface of the ice.

“It does feel like that.” Shion keeps looking out the window because he doesn’t know what he’ll do next, if Adriah were to touch him. “Thank you for showing me around Boston. I had so much fun.”

“I’m glad,” Adriah says. “I did too.”

Unlike last time, Adriah doesn’t stop him before he exits the car. The carry-on is in the trunk again, so Shion pulls that out before he leads back down to see Adriah through the open window.

“Thank you,” Shion repeats. “I’m really happy to have worked with you.”

“Don’t make it sound so final, Shion.” Adriah smiles. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

 _Yeah, we will_ , Shion thinks. _Next week, when you move to Colorado Springs, and start your new job_.

Out loud, he says, “If you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” Adriah says. He opens his mouth, and for a second Shion thinks that at the eleventh hour he’s going to relinquish the answer to the question Shion hasn’t asked. But there’s a car behind him that’s honking, so Adriah pulls away, putting the car back in drive. “Have a safe flight.”

“Drive safe.”

Then he’s gone. The line moves quickly, and Shion has to go inside to make way for everyone else who has flights to catch, places to go, people to see. Meian is on vacation, which means Shion had to arrange his cab ride from Denver to Colorado Springs himself. Sugawara had offered to help out, but he’s still in Japan with Hinata, so Shion didn’t want to inconvenience him further. This means that he will sit by himself in the backseat of a car for nearly two hours until he gets back to the house he hasn’t called home in nearly a month. Hopefully Oliver had followed through on his agreement to water Shion’s plants; otherwise he’s going to have a major change in decoration to implement tomorrow.

When he’s on the plane, he pulls out his phone and touches his thumb to the Instagram icon on his homescreen. His most recent post pops up, and Shion stares down at the caption until it’s time for the plane to take flight.

He reclines his seat. He looks out the window. Boston disappears from under him, and the cloud cover soon obscures his view. He closes his eyes.

_Thank you Boston, for being so kind to me._

#

His flight lands early, so Shion has about half an hour to kill before his cab will pick him up. He finds a bench to sit on and checks his watch to see that it’s now two hours early. He adjusts the time. It’s almost ten at night in Boston. Adriah will be getting ready for bed soon. He doesn’t go to sleep early or late, but somewhere in the middle.

Neither of them said anything like Adriah had the first time, about calling him. He never took Adriah up on that offer. Is it too late to do so? Would Adriah be angry with him if he did? Would he be glad? Aggravated? Excited? Shion doesn’t know.

Now is as good a time to find out as any.

Adriah picks up on the third ring. Is that something he always does? Shion doesn’t know. There’s so much he doesn’t know about Adriah, that he wants to. “Hello?”

“You said to call you if I missed you,” Shion says, gripping his phone tight. “So I’m calling you now.”

“I’m very flattered, Shion. Hasn’t it only been like six hours?”

“Only,” Shion repeats. “I want to play your truth or dare game again.”

“I believe it’s your turn.” Shion imagines Adriah is lying on his stomach on the couch, which he had once said was the most comfortable way for him to sleep.

“I dare you to tell me something that I don’t know about you.”

“You’re taking my dare? How unoriginal.”

“Are you not going to answer?”

“But Shion, there are so many things that you don’t know about me,” Adriah says. When he exhales, the static crumbles before it reaches Shion’s eardrum.

“I know that,” Shion says. He puts a hand on his carry-on to ground himself. “So pick one for me.”

“I keep a list of things I find interesting about you.”

“You… what?”

There’s a faint noise. Adriah must have put him on speakerphone, because his voice takes on an echoey quality the next time he talks. “Shion’s favorite element is the ina bauer, but he doesn’t perform it as often as he does the cantilever. He has never said why. Note to self to ask him about it.”

“You keep a list?”

“Shion prefers edge jumps to toe pick jumps. I think his best jump is his triple axel, but his quadruple salchow is also reliable. He doesn’t like to talk about himself. He wants me to read his Wikipedia page, but I’d rather hear it from him. Note to self to not push too hard, if he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Are all of your notes about my skating? How did you have time to do this while editing and choreographing?”

“Shion used to play volleyball. Note to self to ask him what position, but he probably didn’t have a specific one because he was so young. He started skating when he was six, after watching the Nagano Olympics. He doesn’t mind if I ask him questions, but I should always ask before I do. He almost exclusively wears black training clothes. Note to self to gift him something neon colored to see if he’ll wear it.”

“I would wear it if you got it for me.”

Adriah inhales here. Shion can hear it, albeit faintly. “Shion doesn’t like cinnamon, not even cinnamon sugar. He might be allergic. Note to self to get only cannolis that don’t contain cinnamon. Call the bakery ahead of time to ask. He doesn’t like it when foods are too cold, like ice cream, because he has to wait for it to melt before eating it. He used to have pet fish, but he was terrible at taking care of them so he doesn’t have pets anymore.”

“I—”

“He’s very good at taking care of plants. Note to self to ask for more tips, because mine keep dying. He doesn’t like whole tomatoes or cherry tomatoes but he’ll eat ketchup and pasta sauce. He likes apples, grapes, peaches, and clementines. He doesn’t like big oranges because he hates peeling them but he’ll eat them if they’re already peeled.”

“What— why do you have that?”

“Because,” Adriah says, “I’m very curious about you and I want to know more about you. I don’t want to forget something you’ve told me.”

“Do you know my medal record that you were so insistent that I tell you about, on our first day at the rink?”

“If I want to know things like that then I can look them up,” Adriah says. “I can’t look stuff like this up. These are things you told me about yourself and that I’ve noticed about you that I consider very important.”

“You think it’s very important that I like clementines but not big oranges?”

“It’s important.” Adriah must have taken him off speakerphone now. “It’s only because I met you that I learned something like that about you. I care about your likes and dislikes. They’re important to me.”

Shion feels hungover again, or like he’s at the precipice of something terrible. Over the phone, the silence stretches slow and infinite. It’s worse.

“I’ll tell you something about myself that you don’t know,” Shion says finally.

“What is it?”

“I… I don’t get involved with people I work with directly.” Shion squeezes his phone harder. “It’s a common rule that I think is very smart.”

“It is very smart,” Adriah agrees. “I think that’s a good idea as well.”

“It’s your turn, but I’m going to go again.” Shion wills his voice not to shake as he says, “I dare you to tell me why you didn’t say anything about Broadmoor hiring you.”

“I dare you to tell me why you didn’t say that you knew.”

“It’s my turn, Adriah.”

“It’s actually mine.”

His cab is coming in ten minutes, according to his watch. “I asked first.”

“You said that it’s my turn.”

He’s lost yet another battle to Adriah. How many does that make? “I don’t know,” Shion says finally. “You didn’t mention it so I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I didn’t know what you might be thinking.”

“Well,” Adriah says. “Maybe I was thinking, if you thought that it was the last time then you’d tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I was trying to find out.”

“But,” Shion protests, “you already told me that you’d be in Japan in July. At an ice show that we would be skating in. Together.”

“I did do that.” Adriah laughs. “So I can’t do anything right.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why did you call me, Shion?”

Shion had already said that he missed him. Isn’t that enough? Or do things like this require something that’s more succinct and fleshed out? Shion has never learned how to do that. Shion doesn’t know how to do that. Shion can’t—

How is he supposed to do something he has never done? How is he supposed to do that thing for the first time when it actually matters? He failed at that with Hitoka, but they had been similar in that they were okay with things left unsaid. Shion is already completely sure that Adriah would never accept an explanation like that as an excuse.

He has skated for thousands of hours to get to where he is now. He has muscle memory and practice and unending effort that will not betray him when the time comes. In this airport, against this bench, on the phone with someone who is waiting for Shion to make up his mind, Shion could not be less prepared.

“Adriah—” Shion’s throat catches, and he wishes they were back in Adriah’s living room, a safe table between them and a drink in his hand. The airport lights are brighter than the ones in Adriah’s apartment. “You… you’re fired.”

“I’m fired?”

“Yes,” Shion says. “I’m firing you. You’re not my choreographer any longer.”

“But I already finished your programs.”

“You’re still fired.”

“Why?”

Shion remembers falling the first time he’d been in an ice rink, and how many bruises he’d come home to see every day. Every part of his body hurt, and he had to learn special stretches to keep his body from breaking. He had to get up at the crack of dawn most days to get a few hours of practice in before school, and would be awake late into the night to finish any homework or studying he had pushed off by choosing the rink.

He’d never been so in love in his life. He would do it all again, if he had the option. It didn’t matter how much his legs hurt if he could land another jump, and another one after that. The learning curve had been steep — and he’d conquered it, until he could move on the ice the way he wanted to when he wanted to, wherever he wanted to.

Adriah had said Shion wasn’t a coward. Shion doesn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but at the very least, he isn’t scared of being bad at something on the route towards improvement.

“When you get here,” Shion says, “I’m going to kiss you.”

“You are?” Adriah’s voice wavers. “You’re not even going to take me out to dinner first?”

“We’ve already done that so many times.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Shion waits, long enough that he starts to think he may have made a mistake. He thinks about Adriah leaning over and putting Shion’s hand on his cheek. The tip of his fingers on Shion’s face, outlining something that didn’t exist. The way Adriah had looked when he said he must have read things wrong.

He hadn’t read things wrong at all. He must know that now. If he doesn’t Shion will have to tell him, explain it to him both in words and with his tongue and lips and hands if Adriah would let him.

“Shion.” Is that the way Adriah has always been saying his name? When had he started, or was this his first time? “Shion.” He says it with a mouthful of honey that Shion shares with him from over two thousand miles away. “I want to talk to you every day. When I’m here and when I’m there too. Is that okay?”

Shion’s cab is arriving in three minutes. He stands to walk towards where the driver will be picking him up. “No, Adriah.” He comes to a stop, pulling his carry-on in front of him. “That’s not— that’s not enough. You… I want more than that.”

“You’re so needy, Shion.” June has such variable temperatures worldwide. In the rainy season’s heat of a summer that is staging its arrival, Shion has flown across the world twice, both away and towards someone who has yet to come home. “I guess it’ll be my responsibility now.”

“Don’t say things that can be easily misunderstood,” Shion says.

“As long as you understand,” Adriah says. Shion can hear the smile traveling through their connection, and into a space that he’s been keeping safe for Adriah to occupy. “That’s what matters.”

“I’m getting into my cab now,” Shion says, because he can see the driver. “Sleep well.”

“I’ll talk to you soon. Maybe even—”

“Not tonight,” Shion interrupts. It’s already too late for that.

“I was going to say tomorrow morning, Shion,” Adriah corrects. “Don’t be so presumptuous.”

“You were not going to say tomorrow morning,” Shion says. He knows he’s right. Adriah insists against it, but Shion is still convinced. The moon is out by the time he arrives in Colorado Springs, and even though there’s a thin layer of dust that covers his furniture, Shion has never been so happy to put his bag down in a place that belongs to him.

#

Mornings consist of all the senior level skaters sharing the ice in the Ice Hall for a two hour time period, but absolutely everybody except Shion is away. Some are due to vacation, but most are elsewhere for training camps or choreography, like Hinata in Sendai with Ukai.

Shion hasn’t skated truly by himself in weeks. The only other people in the building are staff, and there’s no one else in the rink area. Samson took the weekend off to go camping with his family. He’d invited Shion, but the thought of sleeping in a tent does not seem appealing, so he’d declined as politely as he could. He puts on a random playlist, and practices what he wants to in the moment.

Twenty laps to warm up, then twenty more to stay warm. Twenty more to loosen himself up with light footwork. Stop for water. Think about what he feels he should do right now. Take off the gloves, Broadmoor is not as cold as SC of Boston. Take off the jacket, Broadmoor is not as cold as SC of Boston.

He’d talked to Adriah last night about how his flight was supposed to be getting in this afternoon. Not to Denver, but to Colorado Springs. Shion had promised to pick him up.

He’s practicing jumps, landing a quad loop successfully after two failed attempts, when he realizes there’s someone watching through the clear panes that are erected on top of the boards.

It’s probably someone who’s gotten lost between the buildings and the different rinks. There are lessons for various levels happening all day, and around this time of year there tends to be newcomers to Broadmoor who haven’t learned where things are yet. Shion skates over to help them. As he’s getting closer, he recognizes the face.

“What are you doing here?” Shion asks, as Adriah follows him on the other side of the boards, to where the door is. He can’t think of a single other thing to say, after thinking about this moment nonstop for the past week. In his defense, he had imagined that the backdrop would be an airport, and he would be holding a glittery sign bearing Adriah’s name. He’d found the stuffed purple giraffe deep in his closet too, which he had been planning on bringing with him. “You said your flight was landing at five this afternoon.”

“That’s when my stuff is getting here,” Adriah says. “I’m teaching a class right after your time is up. Didn’t you see the schedule?”

Shion apparently did not inspect the schedule closely enough. “You couldn’t tell me?” Shion stops in front of the door. It’s the only barrier between him and Adriah now. “Did you really not want me to pick you up that badly?”

“No, no,” Adriah laughs. The best thing Shion has heard, possibly ever. It’s up there with hearing his world record score being announced from the speakers. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I don’t usually like surprises.”

“I won’t do it again then,” Adriah says. His expression softens. “But how is this one treating you?”

When Shion is wearing his skates on the ice, Adriah is less than a head taller than him. He leans against the boards, reaching up to catch Adriah by the collar and dragging him down to kiss him. Adriah must not have expected that, even though Shion had so generously given him a heads up earlier. He makes a quiet, startled noise that makes Shion smile, even as he’s trying to keep kissing him.

“What’s so funny?” Adriah murmurs, the words swallowed up when Shion pulls himself up on his knees on top of the boards, to press their bodies even closer. He’s been thinking about this for the past seven days, or the past thirty, or somewhere in between. There isn’t anything else on his mind now. There couldn’t possibly be.

When they break apart, Shion says, “You said you wanted to go to bed early last night so you could get a good night’s sleep before your flight. Were you at the airport when you said that?”

“I was just about to leave for the airport,” Adriah says. “But I did sleep very well, even if I had to wake up in the middle of the night to change flights.”

He doesn’t look like someone who just got off an airplane. His travel time must have been longer than six hours, because he had a layover along the way in order to fly directly into Colorado Springs. It’s unfair that he looks right now the way he does.

“I still have twenty minutes left,” Shion says, checking the time on his phone. “Do you want to join me?”

“Is that allowed?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Shion admits. “But there’s no one else here.”

“Are you trying to get me fired even before I get to teach my first class?”

“Absolutely not,” Shion says with a straight face. Adriah laughs again, getting his skates out of his bag. Once he’s laced them up, he opens the door. There’s a moment of hesitation before the tip of his blade makes contact with the surface, marred only by Shion before him. “Adriah.”

Adriah looks up, to see Shion waiting for him. He smiles. “Go ahead, ask me out.”

“Didn’t I do that already?” Shion skates backwards, so Adriah can be on the chase. He cuts across the center of the rink to loop back behind him. When Adriah turns to face him, there’s a swoop in Shion’s chest: the same sensation he feels when he’s suspended mid-air during a jump, the fraction of a second that he spends at the apex of the parabola he travels before gravity brings him back down to earth.

“I think you might have to ask again,” Adriah says. “I have a bad memory.”

The blatant lie almost makes Shion trip, but his body has been trained for the past twenty-one years to catch him before he falls. The lights overhead are nearly blinding when he looks up, but they’re nothing compared to the rays of sun framing Adriah’s figure, ahead of him now.

Shion is on his feet. The ice has some give, or maybe that’s just his imagination as he pushes the pick into the surface to give himself momentum moving forward. He maintains his balance but he feels like he’s falling anyway, and it must be content that floats down past the base of his throat, spreading his wings until he soars.

#


End file.
